Pure Bloody Irony
by The-Lady-Isis
Summary: "TELL me there's another explanation, PLEASE." "There's another explanation." "Oh good. What is it?" "I'm using him for sex." "...you're...using HIM...for sex?" "Yes." "But girls don't use him for sex." "Then it's about time someone did, isn't it?"
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: This is for the whole fic. JK Rowling is a literary goddess, I am a humble mortal and own nothing she has invented.**

**A/N: I realise this isn't entirely original as a concept, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. Please give it a chance, and let me know what you think either way! :)**

**Pure Blood(y) Irony**

**Chapter One**

"Merlin's beard, we were never that small."

Lily smirked. "We were. Smaller, if I recall."

Helena returned her gaze to the first-years waiting to be sorted. "You don't recall. That one's only as high as my knee for Heaven's sake."

"Strange, isn't it?" Amelia Peasegood, another Gryffindor seventh-year, asked. "To think that this is the last time we'll ever watch the sorting."

"A little. But we've seen six now, participated in one. And I'm not going to miss those ridiculous songs the Hat makes up," Helena said.

"I don't think they're ridiculous," Lily said. "It really helped my nerves in first-year actually."

"Didn't help mine," Helena muttered, putting herself in the midgets' shoes.

_It had gone completely as expected so far. All the 'A's' were done, the 'B's' were underway and the people Helena had grown up with had been sorted into the houses she'd expected them too. Mostly Slytherin—she could see her cousin Bellatrix sitting proudly among the other purebloods. Helena hadn't sat with Bellatrix on the train, and she wasn't looking forward to the inevitable sorting into Slytherin. Thankfully she'd seen Sirius first, and sat with him and his new friend James Potter on the long journey up to Hogwarts. Sirius was probably the favourite of her relatives, namely because he was the only one who talked common sense and showed compassion to anyone not a pureblood. _

_Helena could just about see his dark-haired head in the line ahead of her. He was next. Professor McGonagall read his name out in a loud, carrying voice. "Black, Sirius!"_

_At least there would be one person in Slytherin she could stand, Helena thought sullenly. _

_But almost as soon as the Sorting Hat had touched his head, it yelled completely the wrong house. "Gryffindor." _

_The half-bloods and muggle-borns began clapping; the purebloods sat stunned. A _Black_ being sorted somewhere _other _than Slytherin? That wasn't right. That meant…blood-treachery! _

_Still in the queue, Helena was panicking. Merlin's beard, if her name wasn't enough to ensure she was placed in the right house, then what did she have to do? Did she even _want _to be in the right house? She knew she didn't fit in with her parents and brother—didn't think the way they thought or even look like them, but surely being put into Slytherin would fix that? Except… Except she didn't _want _to be in Slytherin. And if Sirius could get put somewhere else, then why couldn't she? Maybe she could compromise? _

_Finally at the head of the line, McGonagall called her name. "Malfoy, Helena." _

_The hat dropped down over her ears when it got plonked down on her head. _A Malfoy, eh? Funny, you don't seem like a Malfoy… Now where would you do best in?

Um…maybe Ravenclaw? _she suggested tentatively. _

Well, you do have the intelligence, but there's more spirit than there is intellectualism here. Ambition in a general sense rather than the desire for power your family have, so perhaps not Slytherin.

But all my family have been in Slytherin!

And if all your family decided lassoing dragons was a good idea, you would too? _the Hat asked archly. _No, my dear, there's only one place you should be, and it's GRYFFINDOR!

_She got the same reaction as Sirius had, and stunned, made her way over to the Gryffindor table. Sirius had already made room for her, and was looking incredibly relieved. "Thank God for that, I thought it was just going to be me!"_

"_I don't understand why it put us here though."_

"_Simple," James Potter said from Sirius' other side. "Because you're both too brave for Slytherin."_

_Helena glanced over at the Slytherin table in time to be on the receiving end of a blistering glare from Bellatrix. "Blood-traitors," she mouthed harshly. _

Well, Bellatrix still thought they were blood-traitors. Unlike then though, now Helena didn't care. Gryffindor was where she belonged, and where Sirius belonged. Catching his eye, she smiled warmly at him, then rolled her eyes when he started grimacing at the frightened first-years, making them blanch with terror.

"You are such a bully."

"All the best people are, Hellfire."

She wanted to issue a scathing retort, except just then the feast appeared on the table, and the delicious smells proved too much for her brain to handle. _Mmmm, Yorkshires… _Incredible puddings followed amazing savouries, with no one holding back. By the time the desserts faded from the plates, Helena's stomach ached with pleasure. Beside her, Lily appeared to be in a food coma. Helena poked her.

"Lily. _Lily_."

"What?"

"You have to show the first-years where to go."

"Wha'? Oh, crap, first-years!"

Helena giggled as the redhead leapt to her feet. As a prefect she'd taken her responsibilities seriously, as Head Girl it appeared even more so. Which was more than Helena could say for the Head _Boy_. Lily hit him on the back of the head on her way past. "Potter! Come _on_!"

His eyes lit up. "Where we going, Evans? 'Cause I'll go anywhere with you."

"We're showing the first-years where to go, you _creep_."

"That's what prefects are for!" he protested.

"Urgh, what was Dumbledore _thinking_? Get off your lazy backside, Potter, or I swear I'll report you to McGonagall."

"Bad luck, Prongs," Sirius grinned as Lily stormed off.

James groaned, but did get up. "Oi, Evans! Wait up!"

On the long slow walk back to Gryffindor Tower, Helena found herself walking next to Remus Lupin. "How was your summer?" she asked.

"Uneventful," he replied, "though these days I should be grateful for that, I know."

Well, it might have been uneventful, but he still looked as utterly exhausted as he always did. Two months' break from school-work didn't seem to have done anything to remedy that. "How was yours?" he asked.

"Fine. Long. I'm still a disappointment to my family, I missed everyone here. Glad to be back."

"You've been seventeen for a while," Remus reasoned, "couldn't you move out?"

"With what money?" she asked. "Father might not be able to stand the sight of me but that doesn't mean he's willing to pay out to buy me a place of my own either. No, I need to graduate and get a job first."

"Why not do what I did?" Sirius' voice asked from just behind them.

"Because only savages live in tents, Padfoot," she grinned. "And I doubt Lily would be all that enthused with the idea of me living on her lawn."

"Well you could always shack up with me," he winked.

"Yes…when dragons start hatching pink and fluffy, I believe I'll do that."

No one really stuck around in the common room on the first night, too full of food and anticipation to do much more than collapse into bed. The first-years certainly weren't capable of anything else. Helena was happy to go to bed as well, and headed for the staircases on the far side of the common room. Remus and Sirius didn't follow, and when she looked over her shoulder, they and Peter Pettigrew were huddled around the fire, heads together. It really did not surprise her that they'd been back less than six hours and the self-styled 'Marauders' were already plotting something. Well, she just hoped that whatever it was, they weren't going to involve her.

What Helena had not counted on was involving herself the next evening.

* * *

The day had started badly anyway, as Professor McGonagall handed around the seventh-year time tables. And it was murder. Receiving them, she and Lily had given identical looks of horror at each other, as they were taking the same classes.

"Are they allowed to make us work this hard? Legally I mean?"

"Probably. Bloody hell."

It was bad. Monday was three solid hours of Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, which wasn't so terrible, but followed by two hours of potions (with the Hufflepuffs) then an hour of Charms before dinner with the Slytherins. Tuesday was split between Defence Against the Dark Arts and Herbology, with Wednesday devoted entirely to Charms again. Thursday was more DADA then Transfiguration, then Potions and Herbology again last thing on a Friday. But whereas every year before this one had been nine in the morning to four in the afternoon, lessons began at eight thirty and didn't end until five thirty.

A little way down the table, the Marauders were being handed theirs. Remus took and looked down it without comment, while Peter simply looked terrified. James, when McGonagall gave him his, simply laughed and gave it back. "Professor, you've given me the timetable of a superhuman!"

"That is the usual boast, is it not, Mr Potter?" she replied tartly, shoving it back into his hands. "Black, here's yours."

Sirius took it, and promptly choked on his pumpkin juice.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Helena asked.

He nodded. "Yours is the same?"

Oddly for two almost completely opposite career paths, the NEWTs that prospective Aurors and Healers needed were exactly the same, because they were so hard. Aurors needed to have qualifications in 'challenging' subjects, while Healers could never predict the kind of medical problem their patients might present them with. Once qualified, Helena would then pick a speciality, whether it be curse injuries or animal bites.

But there was going to be a lot of work, that was for damn sure. At least they only had Charms with the Slytherins, which she didn't think Severus Snape would be taking. She'd never liked him, but she knew being around him still upset Lily. Unfortunately it did mean that all of their classes, they were sharing with the Marauders. And if there was one person guaranteed to wind Lily up more than Snape, it would be James.

Helena looked at the timetable again, mentally calculating how she could keep them apart. It wasn't that she didn't want them to get together, just that she wanted to get through her NEWTs without getting caught in any explosions. Literal ones, as had happened at least twice last year when James pushed it too far. Well, she knew there was a Ravenclaw girl who had a crush on him, so for Transfiguration that shouldn't be too difficult, and maybe could have the added benefit of making Lily jealous. Probably. Maybe. Potions…Professor Slughorn would probably be a help there. Helena wasn't a member of the Slug Club (thankfully), but Lily firmly was, so she'd be placed at the front of the class in order for Slughorn to show off his favourite. As for the others she would just have to play it by ear. Hopefully Sirius would be a little less obnoxious than usual so that she could rely on his help.

It did get a little irritating that she had to work so hard at it though; Lily had other friends who could stop James from interfering, but one bone-melting smile from James' secret weapon (Sirius) and most of them fell apart and forgot all about intervening.

It didn't go as badly as it could have done.

She didn't have Sirius' help, since he'd suddenly realised that this was the last year at Hogwarts and he still hadn't seduced Mary MacDonald. This wasn't surprising—Helena and Lily both spent a lot of their time discouraging their friends from falling for Sirius. If they'd only had sex on their mind (as he did) then it wouldn't be so bad, but almost every girl he slept with seemed to be sure that they would be the one to 'tame' Sirius Black—and then got terribly disappointed when they weren't. Anyway, since he was busy flirting his tight, perfectly-formed arse off, Helena had to keep Lily occupied. For the first few hours they managed well, helping each other through Transfiguration and Potions respectively. Things went a little wrong when it came to Charms.

"Surely there's no need for you to be here, Evans?" James asked casually as they entered Flitwick's classroom.

Helena mentally groaned. Lily raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because you've already charmed me!"

Helena smacked him upside the head once Lily had stalked off in disgust. "Ow! What was that for?"

"If you have to keep asking her out, James, can you do it with the minimum of cheese? The whole castle will reek of stilton at this rate."

They went straight to dinner after Charms, completely starving by the time it came around. Helena wasn't really aware of what she was eating, just that she was stuffing it into her mouth with an enthusiasm which would have made her mother faint in horror. When she'd eaten about half of her plate in that manner, she slowed down.

"So what did Slughorn mean about the controversy of anti-venom versus healing potions?"

"I'm not sure," Lily mused. "He wasn't very specific, was he?"

"No. And I bet all the copies of _Adenham's _are gone out of the library already. I'll go and double check after dinner."

"Alright. I'll meet you in the common room."

The hushed atmosphere of the library was quiet, but never what Helena could describe as peaceful. Everyone was too much in fear of Madam Pince for that. Everyone except the four seventh-years gathered in a corner near the restricted section. Perusing the shelves of potion books looking for the particular volume she was after, Helena couldn't help keeping an ear out for their conversation.

"Oh, what about this?" Peter asked. "It might work to-"

"And look what the counter-spell is, Pete," Sirius said, more patiently than she would have expected from him. "_Revelio_ is a basic spell that every second-year knows."

"I think I have something," Remus interrupted. "There could be a way we could get the map to show everyone in the castle. But it's risky. And difficult."

"Oh, well we shouldn't then," James smirked. "Because when was the last time we did anything risky and difficult, Moony?"

"Point taken. Well, we need to steal the Sorting Hat. Or at least a piece of it."

"Which is in the Headmaster's office. We can manage that I think. A diversion big enough to get Dumbledore out, then one of us can get in and nick a bit of the Hat," Sirius said, "and Helena we know you're listening."

"What are you doing?" she asked, more curious than hostile.

"Making a map that can be wiped blank whenever we want for use in…rule breaking," Peter said.

"Uh-huh. And just what, pray tell, do any of you know about magical cartography?"

"Enough," Sirius replied quickly.

"Or nothing at all in fact," Remus said, more tiredly. "Do you mind helping us, Helena?"

"Hang on, what do _you _know about magical cartography?" James interrupted.

"It's a hobby." The only person in her family she'd been able to stand had been her maternal grandmother, Clarisse, who had been a cartographer, and taken pains to include the lonely Helena in as much of her work as possible. When she died seven years ago, Helena had been devastated.

"So you know how to make things unplottable and stuff?" Peter asked.

"No, and anyway that's nothing to do with maps. In order to do that, it requires enchanting the _building_, not the map. Otherwise you would have to individually enchant every map of Scotland so that Hogwarts doesn't show," she explained. "Now what do you want this map to show? Countryside, the world?"

"Hogwarts."

"Just the castle?"

"Everything we know about it," James said. "Which is more than everyone else."

"Quite a boast," Helena remarked. "Well…I can do it. For a fee."

"A fee," Sirius repeated. "What kind of _fee_?"

"You know me, Padfoot. I'm only ever interested in knowledge," she smiled.

"You want us to tell you what the map's for," Remus guessed. "And you want your own copy once it's finished."

"Give the boy a chocolate frog."

"Not happening," James and Sirius said together.

She folded her arms. "Then I guess you're on your own."

Standing, she collected her books and walked out of the library, hearing them whisper together as she left. One of them was going to come after her—probably Sirius. If the Marauders needed a girl to do anything it was generally him. James was too busy lusting after Lily, and while Remus had his charms he was completely unaware of them. No, with perfect, sea-grey eyes, a face to make one go weak at the knees and a body completely capable of sweeping one off those unsteady legs, it would be Sirius.

A pity for them Helena had known him since childhood, and was therefore almost completely immune to him. He wasn't quite a brother to her, but he was too deep into the friendship zone to make her acquiesce to anything he wanted her to.

Quick footsteps, a hand on her arm—and there were those mariner's eyes. "Helena."

"Padfoot. You have been designated negotiator then?"

"Come on, Hellfire, you have to be reasonable," he smiled, walking slowly with her back to Gryffindor tower. "Not letting you know everything is actually for your protection."

"Protection?" she asked, putting on a puzzled tone.

"Yes. Think about it. If we're caught, then this way you're not implicated. Your record remains as flawless as you are."

She blushed at that one—for him. Honestly, how did a sense of shame not come in and stop lines like that before they made it out of his mouth? "So you're just playing knight in shining armour?"

"It is a role I enjoy."

"Well your reasoning is good, but with one flaw."

"Which is?"

"You are assuming that the teachers are as clueless about magical maps as you are. I seriously doubt Dumbledore would be fooled for a moment about who made it. So even if my name isn't on it and the map isn't in my possession, he'd still know its maker. So there's no reason not to give me a copy."

"You drive a hard bargain."

"Much like you."

Climbing the staircase which led to the Fat Lady's portrait now, Sirius sighed. "Okay…you can borrow it."

"'Borrow'? How kind," she said, sarcasm dripping sweetly from her voice.

"That's all you're getting."

"Alright. But I get to borrow it _whenever _I want to."

"So you'll help us?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes. I'll help you. Meet me in the common room after eleven. I'll talk you through it then."

Grinning, Sirius lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, then spoiled the moment by winking stupidly. Helena sighed and faced the Fat Lady. "Such a charmer that one," the portrait remarked.

"Is he? I thought he was an idiot," Helena sighed. "But _amicis semper fidelis_."

"Quite right too," the Fat Lady winked, swinging open.

Helena entered, looking around for her roomates. It was crowded in the common room, packed and noisy with everyone still busy sharing stories of their summer holidays. Over by the fire, there was a glint of copper; Helena smiled. Lily did have rather useful hair.

"I got it!" she announced, sitting beside her fellow seventh years. "Last copy of _Adenham's Advanced Healing Potions _in the library. Had to hex a fifth year, but never mind."

"Helena!" Lily scolded. "Was it really necessary to-"

"Yes. And don't worry, the boils will go down soon. Or eventually. Do you want the book or not?"

"Yes," her friend said reluctantly.

"Then you're going to have to stop glaring at me."

Grudgingly, she did, and Helena handed the book over. "I had a quick flick through. It's interesting what he says about the use of potions in comparison to natural anti-venoms."

"Really? Does it contrast to Dagnetti?"

Helena nodded, and they fell into a discussion of the differences between the two books. Both girls had ambitions to go into Healing once graduated from Hogwarts, which they'd discovered when choosing the OWL options. Before uncovering they shared an ambition, Helena couldn't say she and Lily had ever been that close. They had rather different personalities, as well as _completely _different backgrounds. That, and Helena's friendship with a certain bespectacled Quidditch player and his friends created a little tension between them, especially when Helena refused Lily's request—and then plea, and then demand—to talk James out of constantly asking her out. It was balanced out, in Helena's defence, by a refusal to help James soften Lily up, which while Lily couldn't argue with it, did not make for a speedy rapport. The need for a study-buddy had brought the two girls together; chatting about work soon enough turned into just chatting. True friendship was an easy step after that.

"So how's Alice?" Helena asked after Dagnetti and Adenham had been exhausted.

Alice Fellows had been in the year above them, but as a former Head Girl had been a kind of mentor to the then-prefect Lily. She was now an Auror, and consequently incredibly busy, as was her long-term boyfriend Frank. It was an ambition that many of Helena's friends—including James and Sirius—shared.

Lily's eyes lit up at the mention of Alice. Recognising the cue for impending gossip, Helena leaned forward. "She's engaged!"

"Wow. When did Frank propose?"

"A fortnight ago, she only wrote to tell me just before term started."

"That's brilliant! Any date for the wedding?"

"Not yet, but Alice said they wanted to do it soon. No sense wasting time with things like that nowadays."

"True," Helena agreed. "Too true. Did you hear about the Prewetts?"

Lily nodded soberly. "Yes. I can't believe _both_ of them are gone."

"Took five Death Eaters to bring them down though," Helena added, as if that would be any comfort to their family.

Lily was giving her that look again, the look which had become increasingly frequent over the last year or so. She knew exactly why. Those five Death Eaters could have easily included her elder brother, Lucius. Or any of their cousins save Sirius. Any pureblood—and there were far too many—who supported Voldemort. The look Lily had wasn't fear, or suspicion, but it was slightly wary. As if she wasn't quite sure which way Helena was going yet.

"Lily," she said, more snappily than she meant to, "what do I have to do to prove to you I completely condemn Voldemort and all of his followers? I get that I'm a Malfoy, okay, and I wish to Heaven I weren't, but _please_. I am not responsible for my brother's actions. If I changed my ambitions to become an Auror would that convince you?"

As she was on the point of getting up and storming off to bed, Lily put her hands up placatingly. "I'm sorry, Helena. I really am."

"Thank you," Helena said stiffly. "I need a refuge here. My family view me as a traitor, I don't need suspicion from my friends."

"You won't get it from now on, I swear."

"Alright. Fancy a game of chess?" she asked, to diffuse any remaining tension.

"Aw, Helena, you know I'm rubbish at chess!"

"You're not that bad," Helena grinned, "I'm just very very good."

Lily had improved over the summer, as she'd been practicing with her own chess-set, which made the difference. That way she had pieces who would listen to her commands instead of yelling criticism at her all the time. Helena still won though, in the subtle way she always did—setting up an obvious ploy while her real plan for checkmate brewed quietly in the background. After about an hour of play, the common room had quietened down considerably, with the exhausted first-years leaving first, then the other Gryffindors going in dribs and drabs up to the dormitories. After having to put a stop to an unexpectedly vicious attack by one of Lily's bishops, Helena moved a knight into victory position. "Checkmate."

Lily pursed her lips, but couldn't find a way out of it. "Fine, but this is my new goal: beat you at chess before the end of this year."

Lily went to bed soon after that, with Helena tempted to follow her, annoyed that she had to wait up for the Marauders. She doubted they'd be late in fairness; it had happened before and all four of them had wound up in the hospital wing with various jinxs and hexes on them. It had taken Nurse Pomfrey several hours to rid them of Helena's curses. They had quickly learned that Helena Malfoy was not to be treated with the disposability other girls.

Sure enough, just before half past ten, the portrait opened and Sirius, James, Remus and Peter came through, all carrying books each. Helena raised an eyebrow. "How did you get those past Madam Pince?"

"Dungbomb here and there," Sirius replied. "But then we nearly got caught by Filch on the way back—which is why we need this map."

"So," James said, putting a quill, ink-well and parchment in front of her, "where do we start?"

"Well not with that," she replied, pointing at the parchment. "What you want is a map that's imprinted with the essence of Hogwarts. That means you have to connect it with the castle from the very start."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Which means…?"

"Which means you have to make your own parchment. It's no good just using any blank piece; it has to be soaked _in _Hogwarts. Likewise the ink."

Remus made a note of that.

"And what are you planning with the Sorting Hat?"

"We want the map to show the location of everyone in the castle," Sirius explained. "Teachers, students, Filch. And everyone in the castle was educated here, so they've all sat underneath the Hat."

"Except Filch. He's a squib."

James blinked, then grinned broadly. "Really?"

"You didn't know? Yeah, Slughorn let it slip to Lily, and Lily told me. But getting the Sorting Hat won't help you there. You might have to treat it like a Polyjuice Potion."

"What, get a…bit of Filch?" Peter asked, looking disgusted.

"Yes. His hair or toenails or whatever, but it needs to be mixed in with the pulp as you make the parchment, along with the threads of the Hat. Maybe that demonic feline of his too, if you want to know where she is. Once you have your ink and your parchment, come back to me and I'll help you out further."

"What, that's it?"

"Unless you want me to pull it out of your arse, Padfoot, then yes. Until you get a bit of the Sorting Hat, there's not a lot I can do. Good luck pulling the wool over Dumbledore's eyes."

* * *

**A/N: Review please - cos reviews make the muses sing louder. **


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to my beta, Classic Cowboy :) **

**Chapter Two**

Helena kept her eyes peeled over the next few weeks for whatever the Marauders were going to do to draw Dumbledore out of his office, but nothing happened. No massive explosion of dungbombs, and no first-years being suspended by their ankles from the north tower either. It was going to be spectacular, whatever it was. She had debated with herself about telling Lily, but then decided against it. They were going to be breaking about a million school rules—as Head Girl her friend wouldn't ignore that.

Though that wasn't stopping James.

By the third week of term, Helena had decided that the Marauders had lost their nerve. It seemed unlikely after their years of rule-breaking, but one never knew. NEWTs were important after all, especially to Remus, and even to James and Sirius. They were all present and correct in the Charms lesson she now sat in.

Disillusionment Charms was the subject today, which would be especially useful for the prospective Aurors in the group. _As well as the prospective Death Eaters, _Helena thought, glancing across the room to where a bored-looking Bellatrix sat. It hopefully wouldn't be a charm she'd have to use all that much in the future, especially since it involved a non-verbal incantation—which Helena had struggled with since they were introduced to the curriculum last year. When she wasn't thinking about it, could fool herself into thinking they were just a verbal spell like all the others, then the magic came easily. She was able to perform whatever spell it was quickly and cleanly. But in a situation like this, in a class where she was very aware of her limitations...

They were supposed to be casting the spell on their hands—whether against a window or the desk—and most of the people around her had done it. Lily, next to her, had done it within the first ten minutes of the lesson. Unfortunately she was too busy helping Amelia with her spell to see Helena was having difficulty.

It didn't seem to matter how loudly she thought the spell, nothing happened while she was concentrating on it. It was problem that would be resolved over time, but it was unfortunately a problem that would stop her graduating unless she overcame it _before _she left Hogwarts.

"Are you having trouble with the spell, Helena?" came a voice from her right.

Startled out of her reverie, Helena turned to face Damocles Blaby. She struggled to maintain a neutral expression; Blaby was to her what James was to Lily—an unwanted suitor. Only Helena hadn't been _enjoying _his attentions long enough for icy politeness to give way to open hostility. "Not at all, thank you." _Or at least no trouble that _you're _going to help me with._

"Are you sure? The Disillusionment Charm can be tricky to master."

"It really isn't," she assured, putting her right hand on the desk and tapping it with her wand. A cold, liquid sensation spread across her skin, and then her hand was suddenly the exact colour and texture of the desk underneath it, down to the knots in the wood. She grinned in relief.

It did not make Damocles back off. "Oh how marvellous! Congratulations, Helena, really well done!"

Damocles wasn't as blatantly evil as most Slytherins were, but he was very pompous and putting up with him for more than five minutes wore down almost all of Helena's patience. "Thank you."

"Would you help me?" he asked as she turned away, laying a hand on her arm.

Helena shrugged it off. "I really don't think you need my help."

"But I do," he smiled. "Potions is my area of expertise, Helena, but when it comes to Charms you're far more talented than I. Say, I have an idea. Why don't we meet in the library later tonight-"

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Damocles," she started. "Neither of us need help in either class-"

Flitwick's angry voice interrupted her. "Miss Malfoy! I assume you still wish to realise your ambitions of being a Healer, in which case chatting to your boyfriend and disrupting my class must cease immediately! If it does not, I shall be forced to remove you from my class so that the students who _do _care about their NEWTs are not disturbed further!"

Stung, Helena forced herself not to argue. The fact that Damocles was not her boyfriend would be completely irrelevant to Flitwick. "Sorry, Professor," she murmured, gloweringly aware of Lily giggling silently beside her.

"Welcome to my world," she grinned once Flitwick's attention had been turned elsewhere.

"Shut up. James isn't a twat."

Lily raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, he isn't a _stupid _twat."

Charms progressed in relative quiet after that, with both girls mastering Disillusionment Charms before the end of the lesson and Helena re-securing her place atop Flitwick's favourites list. They left together, chatting animatedly.

"Helena! Helena, wait a moment."

"Oh no. Lily, hide me."

Too late; Damocles was already almost upon them. "Helena, we didn't get to finish arranging to meet tonight-"

Helena looked around wildly, searching for any solution to present itself. Her eyes fell on the four boys walking in front of them. Speeding up, she grabbed Sirius' hand and yanked him down a side corridor which ended in a large landscape in which horses were grazing. They scattered with annoyed whinnies when she pushed him up against the canvas.

"Hellfire, what-"

He shut up as Helena grabbed him and kissed him. Stunned, Sirius just stood there like a lemon while she did so, contributing nothing to the effect. If he didn't get the idea soon then there'd be no point in- His hands came around her waist and pulled her closer just in the nick of time. By the time Damocles' footsteps came around the corner looking for her, Sirius had one hand buried in her hair and the other one somewhat lower than her waist, his mouth devouring hers. Wow the boy could kiss.

Damocles left soon after that.

As soon as he'd gone, Helena pulled away. "Sorry about that."

Breathing raggedly, Sirius stared at her. "What…the fuck…was that?"

"Pretty good actually," she grinned.

"No, I mean—where did it come from?"

"A need to deter Damocles. Drastic times call for drastic measures. If he thinks I'm hung up on you then he's not going to bother me any time soon. Don't worry, Padfoot, I don't need anything more from you." She kissed his cheek. "Thanks."

It was a while before he moved from the dead-end corridor—the kiss might not have been real but it had definitely produced something solid. And something that was annoyingly hard to get rid of for several minutes.

He walked into the common room fifteen minutes later to find James building an Exploding Snap house of cards, and Remus coaching Wormtail through his Potions theory.

"You remember that discussion we had a few months back, about Helena?" Sirius asked casually, sitting down and knocking James' cards over.

Eyebrows singed, Prongs sent an annoyed look over to Sirius. "No."

"About whether or not she was really a virginal ice queen?"

"Oh. Vaguely."

Sirius brushed his hair out of his face and picked up a copy of the _Prophet, _leafing idly through it. "Well, she's not."

"What? How do you know?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you _know _she isn't?" James said again, looking almost fiendishly interested.

"Oh—it's impossible for virgins to kiss like that, _believe _me."

"You kissed her?" he asked, looking vaguely disgusted.

"No, she kissed me."

"But she's…like our _sister_."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, feeling oddly placated by that. It certainly wasn't how he thought of Helena, wasn't how he'd _ever _thought of her. Even when thrown together as children who didn't fit in she had never been a sister to him. "Not to me," he shrugged finally.

"Yeah but…why would she kiss _you_?"

"Thanks for the self-esteem boost, Pete."

"Sorry," Wormtail apologised immediately.

"Peter has a point though," Remus said. "Helena knows what you're like with girls. Why would she expect any better?"

"Oh, she doesn't. Damocles wouldn't leave her alone after Charms, so she kissed me to get rid of him."

"Right. So this whole not-kissing-like-a-virgin thing could have just been a performance."

"It _wasn't_."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "And you know this how?"

"I think I know what a real kiss feels like, Moony."

"But you've just said yourself it was to fool Damocles."

"Yes, but-"

"So she could just be a good actress."

There had been _no_ act in the hotness of her mouth, though, or the way her body had pressed itself the length of his, or the way her tongue had- "It was _not _an act."

"If you say so."

"Damn it, Remus, I-"

"Moving on," James interrupted, "Damocles still won't leave her alone?"

"Apparently not."

"But that's like six months she's been saying no to him. That's verging on stalking her."

"I really don't think there's anything sinister about it," Remus said calmly.

"Not yet there's not! Seriously, if she had to kiss _Padfoot_ to get away from him, it must be bad. We should do something."

"Like what?"

"Like…defend her!"

"She's not a castle, James."

"No, but she's our friend, isn't she? And some guy is hassling her—don't you think it's our duty to help her out? There's some kind of code which applies in these situations you know," he said thoughtfully.

"Right…and how long have we been knights of the round table?" Remus asked.

"No, Prongs is right!" Sirius piped up. "We have a duty to Helena, as her friends, to make sure this pervert doesn't bother her anymore."

"She'll kick your arse."

"Nah, girls love all that chivalry stuff."

"Of course they do."

"Even_ Helena _loves it."

Remus looked up dubiously. "Of course she does."

"Shut up, Moony."

Needless to say, Remus did not accompany James and Sirius on their hunting trip later that evening. Just after dinner was of course the best time to ambush a stray Slytherin, especially a geeky one on his way to the library. They cornered him in a third-floor corridor.

"Oi, Blaby! We want a word with you."

He turned with a look of impatience. As a Slytherin, he was no stranger to being hassled by the Marauders, of course, but he bore it with less hostility than the others. Mainly because he believed them—and most other students—to be below his notice. "Can't it wait? Some of us have _important _things to be getting along with."

"Actually it can't," Sirius said. "See, you've been harassing a mate of ours. And she doesn't appreciate that."

Blaby raised his eyebrows and drew his wand. "Oh, and I suppose because she's yours now, Black, you feel the need to defend her? Miss Malfoy has better taste than to stick with you for long, and when she realises her mistake, I will be waiting to show her the light," he smiled smugly.

He wasn't smiling so smugly when bat-shaped bogies the size of bludgers emerged from his nose and started whacking him over the head with their wings. James followed it up with an expertly placed jelly-legs jinx. Blaby didn't keep still either, and shot an antler jinx at James, ironically.

"_Protego_!"

Damocles switched his attack to Sirius. "_Avis_!" Like bullets, a dozen tiny songbirds fired out of the end of his wand, all pecking at Sirius' scalp. He banished them, and then flicked his wand at Blaby; the Slytherin was hoisted into the air by his ankle. But he hadn't let go of his wand.

"_Sectum-_"

"_Stupify_!"

Blaby dropped headfirst onto the floor. Behind him, wand outstretched, was Helena. She held a book in her other hand, and had apparently been coming back from the library. She looked at the two still-standing boys, eyes wide in shock. "Are you two out of your _minds_?"

"No! We were- defending your honour!"

"_My_ honour?" she repeated. "You attacked Damocles on my behalf? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Well he won't be hassling you anymore," Sirius pointed out.

"How _dare _you," she breathed furiously. "How _dare _you?"

"We thought you'd be pleased."

"Pleased? Pleased_?" _She stalked forward, index finger out and stabbing Sirius in the chest. "_You_ should know that I can take care of myself and _you_," she yelled, turning on James, "should not be such a bloody hypocrite!"

Bewildered, the lads look at each other. "But he was-"

"-pestering me, yes! Which is exactly what you have done to Lily on a daily basis for over a year! Of all people, Prongs, you are the _last _one who should be defending girls from guys who won't leave them alone!"

James opened his mouth to argue, but apparently couldn't come up with a way to defend himself. "It's not that we didn't think you could take care of yourself," Sirius said, "but you're a woman, it's a gentlemanly thing to do!"

She laughed shrilly. "And since when have _you _been a gentleman, Black? You wouldn't know chivalry if it bit you on the arse! And now, because of you, I have to take this idiot up to the hospital wing! And believe me, if he wants to go to McGonagall, I am _not _going to be stopping him!"

She turned a rigid back on them, and levitated Blaby up into the air again, floating him up the stairs. In her wake, James and Sirius stared at each other. "Women are _insane_. We were watching her back for God's sake."

* * *

Two hours later, Helena was still fuming. After explaining the situation to Nurse Pomfrey, the matron had then decided that further action was needed, and sent for Professor McGonagall—who, being a very shrewd woman, had decided that the worst punishment Helena could face (for it had been her spell which had knocked him out, after all) was to be there when Blaby woke up, and to be his primary caregiver (read: errand girl) for the next few days until he was fully recovered.

When Damocles woke, he thought all his Christmases had come at once, that much was clear from his expression. "My dear Helena…"

She was going to _kill _those two miscreants.

Two hours later, Helena was still fuming. After explaining the situation to Nurse Pomfrey, the matron had then decided that further action was needed, and sent for Professor McGonagall—who, being a very shrewd woman, had decided that the worst punishment Helena could face (for it had been her spell which had knocked him out, after all) was to be there when Blaby woke up, and to be his primary caregiver (read: errand girl) for the next few days until he was fully recovered.

When Damocles woke, he thought all his Christmases had come at once, that much was clear from his expression. "My dear Helena…"

She was going to kill those two miscreants.

But it wasn't long before a rather clever plan occurred to her. There was no point in hexing them—aside from the fact that it would get her in mountains of trouble with McGonagall, it wouldn't do anything to teach them any kind of lesson. But annoying them? That was well within her grasp. And with Sirius, maybe she could even dent his pride a little. God knew he needed it.

All she had to do was wait for Damocles to ask her out. Which he would. He always did after all. She gave the boy a smile and called Nurse Pomfrey over. Within a few moments, he had been given the all-clear, and was dressing. When he came back out again, she picked up his bag before he could reach for it.

She smiled at his questioning glance. "Don't want your balance do be affected. You never know with bumps on the head."

"Ah. Very wise, Helena."

They walked down the castle slowly together, chatting. Helena didn't have to bother coming up with flirty lines – it wouldn't make any difference to Damocles. All she had to do was breathe and he'd assume she was flirting with him. At the doors to the Slytherin common room, she handed his bag back to him.

"Rest up, won't you? And I'll bring your breakfast to you in the morning?"

He lit up. "Well, that won't be necessary. I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

"Wonderful." Swallowing her revulsion down, Helena even leaned in a placed a kiss on Damocles' cheek. "Goodnight."

He grabbed her wrist before she could leave. "Say, I have a better idea. How about instead of meeting for breakfast, we go into Hogsmeade for the day? For- For lunch, perhaps, or dinner?"

Ah, victory. Helena smiled and nodded. "Of course. That sounds lovely."

As she walked back up to Gryffindor Tower, she did pause briefly to wonder if she should be feeling guilty about using the poor lad like that. It wasn't morally praiseworthy, or really even passable. But really, Damocles was arrogant, slimy, snobby and clingy. She wasn't going to break his heart – he didn't want her, he just wanted the idea of her. He wanted the prestige that her name brought. And the wealth that the dowry of a Malfoy bride would bring. He needed taking down a peg or two. Sirius needed taking down a peg or ten – she didn't really see much wrong in how she went about doing it.

So, the next day when she was approached by the aforementioned Marauder, she was already feeling a little bit smug. He was holding two things – one, a tiny glass bottle containing a few hairs, and the other, a tiny square of rag.

"We got it. One piece of the Sorting Hat, and Filch's…hairs."

She looked up, eyes narrow. "I haven't heard any explosions. How'd you get them?"

"You constantly underestimate me, Hellfire."

She kept up the glare.

"Alright, Moony got Dumbledore out of his office and we snuck in long enough to attack the Sorting Hat, good enough?"

"How did you get in without the password?"

"If I told you, I would have to kill you."

"That was Remus too, wasn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Alright, how did you get Filch's-"

"You really, really don't want to know."

"I suppose not."

"So will you come and tell us what the next stage is? We have the things you said we needed for the map."

"I can't. I have a date."

"Oh. Okay." A pause. "With who?"

There was no jealousy in his tone, or hurt—but there was a deep suspicion. "Does it matter?" she asked archly. "Because I don't think it's any of your business."

"Seriously, Helena. It had better not be who I think it is."

"Yes, Father," she smiled sweetly as the Fat Lady swung shut behind her.

Dinner was as much of a disaster as Helena had feared it would be. Damocles had hired a private function room in the Three Broomsticks for the two of them, so that they could enjoy a candlelit dinner together. She endured Damocles talking about himself from starter to the time dessert was served before he introduced the topic of her family.

Damocles was all admiration once Lucius' name was mentioned; Helena answered his questions as brusquely as she possibly could. There was little love lost between she and her sibling, and as far as she was aware 'What he was doing these days' was joining forces with Voldemort and torturing as many muggles as possible.

She settled for a neutral, "He's getting married."

"Oh really? To who?"

"Narcissa Black. Bellatrix's sister."

"Oh, of course. I supposed you've heard the scandalous news about their older sister?"

Helena raised an eyebrow. Come to think of it she hadn't seen Andromeda at any family events in a while. "No."

"Well, last summer she married quite without her family's permission, simply for a love match. To a – and this is the shocking thing for such a respectable girl – to a muggle."

"And?" she asked coldly. "What exactly is wrong with marrying for love, no matter who it is? The heart wants what it wants."

"Yes, but a muggle, my dear! Just imagine if they were to have children! The noble Black blood tainted like that!"

Her nerves crackling with anger, Helena put her hands either side of the table. "Damocles. Before we proceed any further, I should tell you. One of my best friends is a muggle-born witch, and because of my 'scandalous' behaviour, my father is seriously considering disinheriting me." Who knew, that could well be true. "I think you have to decide if a respected but penniless name is worth your effort. Rest assured, I shall endeavour not to be too heartbroken if you reject me."

Well, he did it in as chivalrous a manner possible – but he still rejected her. After three years of pursuing her as a perspective bride, Damocles gave up all interest in her. Feeling completely triumphant, she let him walk her back up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Helena…please do let me know if you ever-" he paused doubtfully.

"Come to my senses?" she sighed dramatically. "I will try, Damocles, I will try."

He leaned in and kissed her gently, regretfully, and then left. Helena smiled at his back, and then shook her head, turning back to the Fat Lady and giving the password. As expected, Sirius was waiting up for her, looking furious. "Does your friends standing up for you mean nothing to you, Helena?"

"I don't know," she snapped, throwing her shawl onto one of the sofas, "does respecting your friends' independence mean nothing to you?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous—you respect James and Remus just fine, but then they're male. But you assume that as a woman, I need rescuing if I get into difficulty! You are a sexist pig, Black, and it makes me sick to think I actually let you touch me."

"You still deliberately went out with Blaby just to piss us off!"

She snorted. "And clearly, it worked!"

"You made us look like complete fools!"

"Good!" she yelled. "You are complete fools, and you're the only ones who can't see it!"

"What, so you took it upon yourself to teach me a lesson? All the teachers in this school have failed, Helena, I seriously doubt you could succeed. But believe you me, next time I'll let Your Royal Highness deal with it all on your own."

"Finally! You might enjoy playing the knight in shining armour, Sirius, but don't ever forget I'll never need you to rescue me!"

"Great!"

"Fine!"

Silence fell, and they both caught their breath while glaring at the other. Eventually Helena picked up her shawl and headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. "I'm going to bed."

"Right. I'll see you in the morning."

"Count on it!"

Sirius gave her the finger and stormed up the stairs to his own bed. It was a long time before he fell asleep though, still completely furious. Damn that woman! No one could get under his skin like Helena, _no one_. Whatever he tried to do for her, she threw back into his face—and then whatever she did for him, it was impossible to do the same. Admittedly, maybe she had a point. _Maybe _she was perfectly capable of looking after herself and _maybe _he had no right to tell her how to run her life. But she completely ignored the fact that he did it with the best of intentions, all of them did. _If, _in the course of chivalry, Helena's independence was sometimes trodden on, that could hardly be helped. It was just the bloody madam was too stuck-up to realise that all her friends wanted to do was help.

He gritted his teeth. In some ways she really was a _typical _Malfoy.

But what really pissed him off, what really, _honestly _made him completely angry—was the fact that she'd turned out to be such an incredible kisser.

By the next morning, as had always been their relationship, they were both equally quick to forgive and forget. Breakfast saw them on strained speaking terms, lunch acquaintances, and by dinner they were friends again.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Also I noticed a lot of people placed this on their fav stories/ story alerts, so thank to them as well. Please feel free to review at any time!**

**Chapter Three**

Helena was quitting.

She was going to leave school, with nothing but her OWLs and her wits, and take her chances in the world. Because there was no way she was going to become a healer—she couldn't possibly learn everything she needed to in the time they had. At the moment she was stumbling to the library under the weight of about half of said library. She had three essays to write in two days; one for potions, one charms and one for transfiguration. And she'd already been up for two nights running doing work and everything else.

When she got to the library, all the tables and chairs in there were already occupied. Though she hadn't expected to find Sirius as one of those working. Though to be fair, he wasn't actually working. More smirking in a condescending way at everyone else who was. There was a second year sat opposite him, quill moving feverishly over the parchment.

"Move," Helena snapped.

He looked up, blinking. "W-what?"

"Move. Now."

"But-"

"Move now, or I'll curse you so badly you won't be able to walk straight for the rest of your life. Or maybe you'd like me to transfigure you into a frog. Or a tadpole. Any preference?"

The second year fled the library with his figurative tail between his legs while Helena slammed her bag down on the table.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "You alright, Hellfire? You seem to be channeling McGonagall."

"_No_," she snapped, "I am _not _alright. We've been back six weeks and all we've heard is how this is going to be harder than any previous year we've been through, how it's going to be work work work, how if we want to be achieve _anything _then it's crucial we get all Os in our NEWTs even though being a Healer only needs Es but apparently that just won't look good enough in Hogwarts' graduate statistics for the teachers to stop nagging at us and I've had enough, I've had _bloody enough_!"

"Bit stressed then," he surmised lightly.

"Just a bit."

He pulled a silver hipflask from his bag. "Firewhiskey?"

"No thanks. I have a feeling alcohol would compound everything."

"Great stress-reliever though."

"Until the hangover kicks in. Put it away. Madam Pince will kill you if she catches you with it."

He took a swig before doing so, coughing up smoke once or twice. "You do need to relax though."

She nodded. "And I need a massage. I've got knots the size of pheonix eggs in my muscles. And no, before you ask, I don't want you to give me shoulder rub. I really don't want my bra undone."

He put a hand to his chest. "You cut me to the quick, Helena, you really do."

With a sigh, she opened her bag and pulled out blank rolls of parchment, a quill, inkwell and three heavy books on animagi. All of them were obviously intended to put the reader off—they all contained descriptions of what could happen if the process went wrong in great detail. The pictures were even worse. She couldn't hold back a wince at some of them.

"Thinking of giving it a go?" Sirius asked, keeping his tone light. Idly he wondered what animal she'd turn into. Probably whatever her patronus was, though that wasn't a guarantee. James' was the same, and his—a wolf—was very similar. _Whatever she'll turn into, it'll be graceful_, he found himself thinking, which made no sense. On a broom she was anything but.

"One day maybe. But I wouldn't dare until I could talk to other animagi, get them to help me through it. Way too dangerous."

He grinned. "Really?"

She looked up at him. "Absolutely! I mean just _look_ at these pictures!" She gestured at one, which showed a witch transforming into what looked like a bird. She had a beak, and wings instead of arms, but wings that hadn't shifted position, so they were still hanging down, and jointed like arms. Likewise, her legs were bent backwards like a birds, but _weren't _those of a bird. "Plus the fact, you have no idea what you'd transform into. What if you transformed into a dolphin or something a hundred miles away from the sea? I'd have to be a total idiot to want to try it before I know everything I can."

"A total idiot, eh?"

"Yeah, just think-" She looked up suspiciously. "_Sirius_."

He blinked innocently. "What?"

"Tell me you've never tried it."

"I haven't tried it." Technically true. He hadn't tried, he'd succeeded.

"I don't think I believe you."

"I don't lie to my friends."

She narrowed her gaze. "Just how _long _has your nickname been Padfoot?"

Oh shit. "What?"

"And James—when did you start calling him _Prongs_?"

"I don't remember."

"I'm sure."

"Seriously, Helena, youneed to relax. The stress is making you _more _than paranoid."

She carried on staring at him for a few seconds, then sighed and put her head on the page in front of her. "Yeah. You're right, the idea is ridiculous."

Sirius breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Yep. Ridiculous."

"Sorry, Pads."

"Don't worry about it."

"Okay, stress relievers…alcohol's out, so is sport—I mean, Merlin, look how bad I am at Quidditch. Can't use food, or I'll get to the size of Slughorn. Which leaves…"

"Sex," they said in unison.

"But if I'm going to get decent results then I won't have time for a relationship," she said. "I mean I know there are muggle solutions to that-"

"There are?"

"Yeah. Apparently it's called a 'vibrator', so Emily informs us. She's quite candid about what it does."

"What does it do?"

"What do you think?" Helena asked. "You know your way around a woman's body, Sirius. Which bit would appreciate vibration?"

"I can guess," he grinned.

"Hmmm, then maybe your reputation is deserved."

"I have a reputation?" he asked, delighted.

"Yes."

"Is it good?"

"I hate to disappoint you, but my lips are sealed," she smiled. "But anyway, it runs on…what are those things which power muggle stuff called?"

He shrugged. "No idea. Never did Muggle Studies."

"No, nor me. Well, whatever they're called, it wouldn't work in Hogwarts. So I need the real thing. That's so tedious."

"Plus there's the problem of _your _reputation."

Her jaw dropped. "_My _reputation? But I've only ever- I mean _once…_"

_This is news. _As far as he knew—or had known up until a few days ago—Helena was a virgin. She definitely never slept with anyone at Hogwarts. Or at least no one in Gryffindor. Or Slytherin. And she wasn't evil, but she could be a bit of a snob, so not a Hufflepuff either.

"Was he a Ravenclaw?"

Immediately, he wanted to take the question back. He hadn't meant to ask it. It wasn't his business, and she was a friend; it wasn't his right to judge her, to demand details. But the blush the rose to Helena's cheeks was rather endearing.

"No. He was a muggle actually. Farm hand I think."

"And your father didn't kill him?"

"Father doesn't know. And Lucius doesn't know he knows," she added slyly. "I love memory charms."

"How old were you?"

"I'll tell if you will."

"Fourteen. Lucy Anders. Hufflepuff common room."

"Sixteen. Tractor. His name was Oliver." She smiled fondly. "It was rather lovely."

"Lovely," he repeated, in a tone much less pleased than hers. "Your entire experience of sex is 'lovely'. Bloody hell, Helena, you need to get laid."

"Are you volunteering for the job?" she asked archly, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe."

She flicked her gaze over him appraisingly, apparently actually considering it. Sirius didn't blush or shy away from her eyes. He knew he looked good—Quidditch most days of the week had ensured that, and his face wasn't bad either. And self-esteem wouldn't let him think that this 'reputation' she'd referenced would be anything bad—that had to be good.

"So this would be, what, friends with…"

"…benefits."

She grinned. "Simple solution, clean, effective. I like it."

"Are you serious?"

"Why not?" she shrugged. "Merlin knows I could have done with it during the fourth year tests."

"You aced them."

"Yeah, and then that summer I went home and shagged the first decent-looking muggle I came across. You're telling me you didn't do the same?"

"Well of course I did but I'm a bloke."

"So teenage girls don't get horny unless they're being seduced by Sirius Black is that it?"

He grinned, but then sobered. "Helena, on paper this sounds like a good idea, but I'm really not the relationship type. Honestly I doubt I'd be capable of it."

She sighed and leaned forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and her face a few inches from his. "My dear Padfoot—if I were after a relationship, I'd hardly be likely to pick the boy most likely to break my heart, now would I?"

He searched her gaze carefully—there was amusement in its blue depths, but no nervousness or anything softer or deeper than friendship. This really was about sex, apparently.

"I suppose not."

"No. So are we shagging, or not?"

It took them less than five minutes to reach the boys' dormitory—no one was in there, though it didn't seem like that would have stopped Helena. She was certainly dedicated to her course once she settled on it. It was impossible to keep track of her hands, they were moving that fast, and everywhere. But wherever they were they felt _great_. Not as great as it did when she was trapped between him and the wall, legs wrapped around his hips. He'd never really noticed just how frankly _endless _her legs were until he was running his hands up and down her thighs.

He tore his mouth from hers long enough to gasp out, "Shouldn't we be doing this…in a bed?"

She chuckled lowly and ran the tip of her tongue up his neck. "You never struck me as a traditionalist, Padfoot."

He shuddered, then grabbed her hand and tugged her up the rest of the stairs. There was no one in the dormitory, but Sirius did a quick sweep of the bathroom just in case. Then what little remained of his brain kicked in.

"Hellfire, are you sure you want to do this? Because-"

Something soft landed on his head. Which when he pulled it off turned out to be…a blouse. When he turned around, the only thing Helena had on her top half was a lilic lace and silk bra. Thought disappeared.

All Helena's breath was forcibly removed from her lungs once her bra was gone and had been replaced by Sirius' mouth on one breast and and his fingers on the other. Her back arched off the bed. She groaned aloud. "Why have we never…done this…before…?"

All he did was grin and go back to swirling his tongue around her nipple. That grin got her annoyed—it was so _smug_. So sure she was going to collapse into a puddle, putty in his hands. Well, one part of her was wet, and getting wetter by the blissful second, but she wasn't going to be the one completely helpless in his hands. She went for his neck again, kissing lightly until the softest of groans left him, and then she bit down. The moaned utterance of her name brought a sharp spike of pleasure. They were both completely naked within a matter of seconds; Helena turned them, putting his hands exactly where she wanted them. Her hand curled around his length, rubbing softly up and down. Sirius moved his left hand from her hip to her core. Her throbbing clit more than welcomed the attention, but she still refused to surrender control. She put his hand back and fixed her eyes on his.

"Watch me," she breathed.

She sank onto him slowly. Too slowly. But there would be time for haste later. Time for rough fucking up against a wall somewhere. For now she wanted him to lose everything before she gave it back to him. It took almost everything she had not to give into instincts which had been ignored for far too long. It had been too long, it had been too _long _since she'd felt this… She pushed her hips down a little further, and realised she had _never _felt this. Not this deep, not this filling. Not this good.

By the time he was all the way into her, Sirius' fingers were digging almost painfully into the skin of her hips, and his teeth were gritted hard. She leaned forward, ran her fingers through his hair with a grin on her face. "Something the matter?"

He opened fevered grey eyes. "Move. Hellfire, _move_."

Laughing breathlessly, she did. They rose and fell together, bodies sheened with sweat and bursting with pleasure. It crackled along Helena's nerves like lightning, setting everything screaming. It could have been aloud; she would never have known. The orgasms weren't slow in coming, for either of them, but they were no less intense when they hit. Helena went rigid first, shuddering with the climax. Sirius fucked her through the peak to his own orgasm a moment later.

Bones removed, Helena slumped forward, panting hard but with a broad grin on her face. "We should do that more often."

He pushed sweat-streaked hair back from his forehead with the hand that wasn't wrapped around her waist. "We will."

They were silent for the time it took for Helena to get her breath back. "So what _is _my reputation?" she asked after the sweat had cooled.

"Bit of an ice queen. Frigid in some quarters."

"Well? Am I frigid?" she asked.

He barked with laughter. "Yeah. Yeah I'd say so. Particularly icy with you riding me. And those moans and cries of pleasure—positively _chilling_."

She grinned, then stretched, cat-like, a grin borrowed straight from the proverbial Cheshire still fixed on her face. With that, put her arms above her head and snuggled deeper into the covers. "Where are the others?"

"Potions possibly."

"Right. How is it I'm not caring about that?"

"It's what good sex does I suppose. And that was _gooooooooood _sex."

Helena could only agree.

Sirius was on the borders of sleep when Helena suddenly began laughing quietly, and then louder, and then finally crying with it. "What? What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking," she gasped out. "But, well, what if this is some elaborate plot from our parents?"

"What?"

"Think about it. You're a Black, I'm a Malfoy—and we're in bed together. It's pretty much perfect from a pureblood point of view isn't it? And we've both strived so hard to rebel and break from the norm too…" She giggled softly.

"Ah, the irony."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: Thank you to my wonderful beta CC :) And thank you for the reviews - all very much appreciated!**

**Chapter Four**

Stress disappeared almost overnight—Helena had been worried (at first) that maybe the sheer amount of sex she was now getting would be distracting, would be too time-consuming, but it really wasn't. Sirius didn't press her for sex when she wasn't in the mood for it, and in the bedroom he really was just a booty-call. Outside of it, still one of her best friends of course, but she didn't have to pay him any more attention than she normally did. Now that she wasn't getting stress headaches, or worrying too much about the amount of work that lay ahead, it was far easier to tackle essays, new spells and potions she'd never brewed before. Lily had noticed a change, but she didn't say anything or ask what had caused it.

By Halloween, no one knew. It wasn't an active secret, just mere coincidence. Whenever they used the boys' dormitory it had been empty, and Sirius physically couldn't get into the girls'. There had, as Helena predicted, been a few times where she'd been pressed between Sirius and a wall—much to the enjoyment of both of them—but so far no situations where they'd been caught in the act.

Today, a Saturday, was the first Quidditch match of the season. Gryffindor vs Slytherin, which was always guaranteed to be fun, always guaranteed to be dirty. And it wasn't necessarily the Slytherins who were the dirty ones, though. James tended to get very passionate about the sport, though she really didn't know why. Quidditch was one thing she had hated from the very first time she'd ridden a broom. On the ground she was as graceful as the next person, on the dance floor moderately better, but on a broom, she was…terrible was putting it kindly. Normally she tried to avoid the house matches, and invariably she failed. Today it had been Peter's eager-to-please smile that got her down to the Quidditch pitch. Now he was on his feet next to her, small eyes wide and excited, fixed on the action in the skies above them. Remus was on his other side, doing much the same. Lily was sat with the other Gryffindor girls a few seats over, watching it with the wonder that muggle-borns never seemed to lose. Everyone around her was draped in solid scarlet and gold; she'd restrained herself to a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck. If she was honest, though, she did like being a spectator at these things.

Except when James got a bludger in the face. Through her binoculars, it was horribly close-up and horribly-detailed. Blood started dripping from his nose in a steady flow. She winced for her friend. "Damn it, Padfoot, where were you?"

Where he was turned out to be at the goalposts, beating the other bludger away from Amelia Peasgood, the Keeper. And while the other Gryffindor Beater was strong, he wasn't particularly fast. Either that or his broom wasn't great. Sirius got revenge for James' injury though, whacking his bludger into the right shoulder of Rabastan Lestrange. Helena almost heard the crack.

It deteriorated from there. By the end of the match some seventy minutes later, five out of the seven Gryffindor players were bruised or battered in one form or another, with only four of the Slytherins in a similarly bad way. Though that wasn't anything to do with Gryffindor chivalry. More like their focus being on winning the match more than beating the opposing team to a bloody pulp. It didn't last long though—as soon as the snitch was in James' hand, Sirius not-so-accidentally ploughed into Avery, knocking him fifteen feet off his broom into the mud. He wasn't hurt, but he wasn't happy either. Neither was the referee.

"He is such an idiot sometimes."

Peter bit his lip. "But the match is over. She can't give Slytherin a penalty after Prongs caught the snitch can she?"

"Of course not," Remus assured him. "Though she can take points from Gryffindor."

She did—twenty points.

And then forty points from Slytherin when Avery took revenge by hitting Sirius across his back with his club. The two teams left for the changing rooms in a chorus of as many boos as cheers. "Well, at least we won," Peter said cheerily.

"We could have won by more than we did," Remus said.

Helena agreed. It was uncharacteristic of James, but there had been at least three easy opportunities to catch the snitch that even _she _had seen. How the self-styled 'best seeker in the world' had missed them she had no idea. And the rest of them hadn't been on top form either.

"Yeah, but be fair," Pete argued, "James looks like he's broken his nose, and Padfoot's probably got some serious bruises."

"They'll both be fine," Helena said absently.

"Still got to hurt though. He'll be black and blue."

_All down his back, _she thought. _Maybe all over his chest too…_ One downside to sleeping with Sirius that she'd found—the amount of thought she spent on sex had about tripled. Quickly, she mentally ran through her workload. There was a DADA essay due on Thursday, but other than that she was pretty much clear. Certainly there was nothing else pressing she had to do this evening.

"Well," Remus said, shaking his head, "I just hope they find a better form of motivation the next match."

She grinned inwardly. Well, she wasn't going to motivate the whole team…but one Beater? She could manage that.

"Coming, Helena?"

"You go on ahead. Think I'll wait for the others and walk back up with them."

"Okay. See you later."

She waved the two of them off and went down to the changing rooms, underneath the stands. The Gryffindor team was just coming out as she arrived, or at least the majority of them were, all looking less pleased than she would have guessed.

"What's the matter with them?" she asked James as he came out.

"I told them all to wipe the smiles off their underachieving faces."

"Oh. You won."

"Not by enough. Not by _near _enough."

She nodded, not understanding enough about either Quidditch or men to get how a win could be described as 'not enough'. Checking behind him, she raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you actually managed to dent Padfoot's self-esteem that much that he's sulking."

He smirked. "Nah, he's still in the showers. Trying to wash off the desire to kill Avery I think."

"I'll wait for him. Wouldn't want him to get scared in the dark after all."

"Alright. Do me a favour? Screw his head back on straight. He listens to you."

She nodded, thinking, _Well I'll definitely be screwing _something_…_

She waited until James was out of sight before she went inside the changing rooms, checking that no one else was in there before she locked the door and headed toward the showers. Steam wafted invitingly from around the corner, the noise of the water growing louder as she got closer. By the time she got to the showers, her clothes were littered in a line on the tile. She pushed back the shower curtain almost silently, then adopted a nonchalant pose.

"I'm going to need you out of the shower soon, Mr Black."

"Helena? What are you doing in here?"

"Team's new healer."

He smirked. "I see. This is strictly a professional visit then."

"Strictly."

"And the lack of clothes…?"

"Well I didn't want to get mine _wet_," she exclaimed, eyes wide.

He spread his arms out, then turned on the spot with a very confident smile on his face. Well-placed confidence too. His muscles were never less than impressive, but wet and slippery…Helena swallowed when his back was turned, then slipped her hands around him while he still faced away from her.

"So…bruises?"

"Mostly on my back. Right shoulder."

She lowered her lips to the offending scarlet mark. It was already beginning to darken in the middle. "Next?"

"Ribs, at the bottom on the left side."

She bent and kissed that too. There was a long red mark going diagonally across his back where Avery had hit him, so she dragged her mouth along it. "Anything else?"

Sirius let out the breath he'd been holding. "Think I'm good."

Her hands caressed further downwards while she purred into his ear. "So no…lumps…bumps…abnormal _swellings_?"

"Don't think so."

"No? So _this_," a sharp gasp was torn from his throat, "is perfectly normal?"

"Well…with you around…"

She chuckled, then moved under the warm spray herself as their mouths met in a fierce kiss. She pulled away though as his hands went down to her thighs, before he could lift her against the wall. Not that she didn't love it when he did that—just that it wasn't what she had in mind for the time-being.

"I have a present for you."

"Oh?"

"A victory gift, if you like."

"I do like gifts."

"Well, soon you'll learn to like victory too."

With that, she put her hands on his thighs, and sank down onto her knees.

"Hellfire-"

"I want to."

While his face may have been shocked, though, from where she was—kneeling—there was one part of him getting rather excited. Helena couldn't hold back a grin. It would be the first time she'd tried a blow job, so she couldn't be entirely sure whether or not she was going to enjoy it. Experimentally, she leaned forward and kissed the head lingeringly, sucking a little. The muscles under her hands flexed, and his fingers immediately wound into her hair. She pushed forward a little more, swirling her tongue around before she pulled back, grinning. _Interesting taste. _

The more she took into her mouth, the weaker Sirius' ability to stand seemed to become. The rush didn't come from the taste—though that was by no means unpleasant—but from the knowledge that he was completely and utterly in her power. True, she was on her knees before him, but she most certainly had the upper hand. Although currently it was curling around the base of his length. She kept her eyes on his the whole time, lips wrapped around his cock and head moving rhythmically. She grew in confidence the longer it went on for, but still wasn't completely sure what she was doing. Eventually she decided to keep doing whatever he responded best to; whatever drew the loudest groans. She was fairly certain that at some point he was going to-

Sirius drew in another, deeper, shuddering breath. Helena recognised it as the time to pull back, though she didn't cease the movement of her hand. With a long, loud exhalation of her name, he came. The warm liquid landed on her chest, coating her breasts lightly before being washed away by the shower spray. Panting, Sirius leaned back against the tiles with a brilliant grin on his face.

Helena smiled back when he reached down a hand to pull her up. She grimaced a little at the soreness in her knees, but smiled again when he kissed her knuckles, then her mouth. "You've never done that before, have you?"

She shook her head. "That obvious?"

"In the best way," he assured, pulling her closer and kissing her again, more deeply this time. "What brought it on?"

"I felt like it. And I have to admit to being curious. I don't like you beating me at anything, Padfoot, you know that. And while you have me beaten on experience, the Kama Sutra had some tips I found useful for…inspiration."

"Well then I owe Vātsyāyana."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "I didn't even know you know what a book was for."

"I own a copy."

"Of course you do."

"And I read it enough to have some ideas on how to return the _gift _you've just given me."

Helena had a fair idea too, and twenty minutes later had been proven right. She really hoped the dormitory was sound-proofed so that her cries of pleasure could echo around the tower without embarrassment. The idea of her stifling them was almost completely ridiculous anyway—she'd known the boy had a talented tongue, but _this_-! Her hands were stuck in a death grip on the pillow under her head, simply because if she put them anywhere near Sirius' head she was going to tear his hair out. All thought had been swept aside in favour of pure, electric sensation. One orgasm was supposed to be the same as any other, surely, but the one that was spiking up from her spine was _not _going to be- be-

It finally ripped through her, forcing her back into an arch off the bed. It just seemed to go on, pleasure without end. And even hen she started breathing again, and her body had gone lax, her limbs still buzzed with the energy of it. She didn't bother opening her eyes, and shivered when Sirius came back up, running his fingers over her skin as he did so.

"Another first?"

She nodded breathlessly. "You can do it again any time you like though."

He chuckled. "I'm going to barely win matches in the future I think. Definitely worth it."

"No arguments here. Where did you- Actually, no, I don't want to know where you learned that."

"Probably not." She felt him stretch out next to her briefly. "Hungry?"

She was. But going to dinner involved getting up, and that involved moving, and that was something she was definitely incapable of at the moment. In fact even her toes weren't obeying her commands to move. She relaxed, far too comfortable and utterly unwound to care about it. Who needed food anyway?

"I'll let you get me something."

"You'll 'let me'?"

She cracked open an eye. "Come on, Padfoot, you're telling me you don't know how to get into the kitchens?"

"No."

"There you go then. You know where to find me when you get back."

She _heard _him roll his eyes, but he did get out of bed and dress. She managed to open her eyes long enough to watch his arse until it disappeared into his trousers. Once he was gone, the warmth of the bed and the endorphins still swimming around her system lulled her quickly to sleep.

* * *

Putting his quill down, James cast a doubtful eye over his potions essay. It wasn't brilliant, but he'd covered all the basic points on the effects of a Veritaserum overdose, and how to reverse it with the use of other potions. At least he had a free Sunday tomorrow. Along with the full moon tonight, he was going to need a lie-in. And a big dinner. Moony and Wormtail had already gone down to dinner, but he had a vague recollection of seeing Padfoot head upstairs with a girl—not at all unusual—about twenty minutes ago.

When he headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and all sound was blocked out by a muffled buzzing noise, he realised he'd been right. It was the rule that all the guys used in seventh year; if they had a girl up there, then they used the _muffiliato _spell so that no one else had to listen to the sex. With the curtains around the four-posters, it was a system that had worked perfectly for the last two years. Crossing the room, James put his potions essay into his trunk and made to go down the stairs. He stopped halfway across the room.

There was a gap in the curtains in Sirius' bed. And he didn't mean to look—but the gap revealed the sleeping face of the girl.

He managed to stumble back downstairs and onto a seat. Though he wasn't sure whether he'd sat on a sofa or the fire. No pain. The sofa then. Good. Still staring into space. Why would she-? Unless it was more innocent than it seemed? Somehow. Anyhow.

"Potter, you're on my hand. Potter? Potter!" A sigh. "Oi, James!"

Ooooh, that was a nice voice. He should answer that voice. He turned toward it; was vaguely surprised to find it was Lily speaking to him. "Yeah?"

She eyed him almost nervously. "Have you been cursed or something?"

"Um…maybe. Think I'm seeing things anyway."

"Seeing things?"

"Uh-huh." He still couldn't believe it. _Helena_.

"Like...?" Lily prompted.

"Um, there's a girl in our dormitory. In Sirius' bed."

Lily wrinkled her nose and went back to her Rune translation. "And how is that unusual?" she muttered.

"It's _who_ the girl is."

Lily eyed him again. "Who is she?"

"He-"

He cut off as the portrait opened, admitting Sirius. James stood, suddenly unbelievably pissed off at his best friend. "You bastard," he said, quite matter-of-factly.

Sirius blinked. "Me? What've I done?"

"You do realise that after you screw and dump a girl, it's impossible for the rest of us to be friends with her, right?"

"Prongs-"

"And to do it to the _only_ girl-mate we have- Don't you think you're being just a _little_ bit selfish?"

"I'm not going to-"

It was Lily who interrupted this time. "Oh my God, you're not talking about Helena are you?"

"Yup!" James informed her. "She's upstairs, asleep. In _his_ bed."

Her jaw dropped. "I'm going to kill her."

"You're going to kill who?"

James and Lily whipped around to see Helena at the foot of the boys' staircase, fully dressed but with her hair loose around her shoulders and her colour high. Her tie was in her hand, not around her neck, and the top few buttons of her blouse were still undone. Her expression was mildly curious to find Lily and James apparently on the same side of an argument.

Lily marched over to her. "Hel, tell me there's some other explanation, _please_."

"Other than…?"

"Other than you actually falling for Black's dubious charms and sleeping with him."

"There's another explanation," Helena assured calmly.

James was pretty sure there _wasn't_, but Lily breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck for that. What is it?"

"I'm using him for sex." She passed a stunned Lily and moved to the fire, picking up a copy of _A History of Magic_ and opening it to a bookmarked page.

It was almost a full minute before Lily or James moved. Then James found his voice. "You're...using _him_...for sex?"

"Yes."

Letting out a startled chuckle, James looked at his best friend. Sirius shrugged and nodded. "Sorry, mate."

"No worries. Done that essay for Slughorn yet?"

"Yeah. Just finished my conclusion."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

All heads turned to Lily. "This doesn't make _any_ sense, and you're all acting like it's the most normal thing in the world! Helena, think—have you been confunded?"

"No, Lily, I'm feeling perfectly fine. More than fine actually," she added, with a sly glance at Sirius, who winked back.

"Has anyone given you anything suspicious to drink? An aphrodisiac maybe? I mean, have the house elves in the kitchens been giving you oysters or something?"

"Of course not. Lil-"

"What about strawberries? Or- or chocolate, even, that's supposed to be an aphrodisiac too! Or-"

Helena stood and shook Lily firmly. "Lily. You're getting hysterical. Calm down."

Lily nodded. It made the firelight catch her hair in a completely enchanting way, James noted. "Okay. I'm calm," she said. "So…really no potions or spells or aphrodisiacs?"

"Nope. Simple biology. And I promise you, I am in no danger of getting my heart broken."

"But you've slept with _him_!"

"_Sleeping_ with, Lily, not _slept_. Don't have a heart attack, but this is going to happen again. Now I appreciate the concern, but you really don't have to worry about me."

"I might have to worry about communicable diseases!" she shot back. "I mean, do you _know _how many of the school sluts he's-"

"Yes, I'm quite aware. But you know me; I'm careful. At least in that area."

"But it's _him_! Girls just don't use him for sex!"

"Well, then it's about time someone did, isn't it?" Helena replied lightly. "Oh, Lily, even _I _know what's going on in the muggle world at the moment—feminism! Burning of bras and stuff! So isn't it time that spread to the wizarding world?"

"I'm all for birds taking their bras off and burning them," Sirius interjected casually.

Helena flicked her wand over her shoulder; next moment Sirius was wearing a hot pink lacy number while she went back to her conversation. "Female empowerment, right?"

Lily's eyes went to Sirius—he seemed to have having trouble undoing the clasps of a bra, which was strange considering just how many bras he'd undone in his time. She couldn't hold back a grin. "Right."

Helena beamed. "Great. Now come on, we're going to be late for dinner."

"One more thing though," her friend said, pointing her own wand at Sirius. He'd now gotten James to try and unhook the bra. Lily took careful aim and-

"Ow! Bloody hell, Evans, you almost took my eye out!"

"Now we can go to dinner."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to CC :)**

**Chapter Five**

It did not take long for the rest of the castle to get hold of the gossip which had been yelled throughout Gryffindor Tower. Helena kept waiting to feel some kind of embarrassment, and was thankful and quite proud of herself when she didn't feel any. Nor did she feel any kind of possessiveness over Sirius, something else she'd been slightly concerned about. He was a mate, and because of that she'd defend him to the ends of the earth, but other than that, nothing had changed. She still winced every time a ridiculous chat-up line came out of his mouth (directed at another girl, naturally. He'd quickly learned that cheesiness led to less sex with her), and she still preferred _not _to know where he was and what he was up to.

Most of the Slytherins had called her a slut within about two days, and there were a _lot _of crude drawings carved into desks pretty quickly. "What did you expect?" Sirius had laughed when she'd pointed it out to him, "You're really hot. That one in Transfiguration has been there since at least fifth year."

"You put it there didn't you?"

The only caricature that caused a twinge of annoyance was one Lily had tried to hide from her in Charms. It was surprisingly detailed, even down to a caption. _Best she's ever had._ Helena crossed out the 's' in the second word.

Overall though, the whole school knowing the intimate details of her sex life bothered her not one jot. People outside the castle, however…

Coming to the end of a Transfiguration lesson about three days before Halloween, the class was interrupted by a terrified looking third year, who came in bearing a note. She didn't wonder he looked terrified. McGonagall _hated _to have her lessons disrupted in any way, and sure enough had already fixed the unfortunate messenger in her sights.

"What is it?" she demanded, voice sharper than a knife.

"Um, I- I- have a-"

She snatched the scroll from him with a sigh through her nose, and then nodded toward the door. "Back to your class, Mr Wallace."

He nodded vigourously and almost sprinted to the door while McGonagall read the message. Judging from the rising of her eyebrows, it was not a welcome one. Finally she let it curl shut again and looked at Helena. "Miss Malfoy, you have a visitor."

"A visitor, Professor?"

"Yes, a family member. You may go after the lesson has finished."

Helena nodded, hiding a smirk. If there was a governors' meeting then her father usually did make a point of seeing her, if only to tell her that her grades weren't good enough and he expected more of her. At least it was one thing she knew wasn't related to the fact that she'd not been sorted into Slytherin. Lucius had done exceptionally well during his time at the school; his younger sister was meant to follow in his footsteps. Potions had always been an area for him to criticise even if she was excelling at everything else. One thing he _definitely _would not appreciate though was being made to wait. But she didn't think even Abraxus Malfoy was going to come and argue with the Transfiguration mistress.

After the lesson, though, the figure pacing up and down in the entrance hall wasn't her father.

"Lucius! What are you doing here?"

Her brother placed a coldly formal kiss on her cheek. "Narcissa needed to come into Hogsmeade to choose her wedding robes; I decided to come and see you whilst I was in the vicinity."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"Really, Helena, does a brother need an ulterior motive to speak with his younger sister?"

"When the brother is you, _yes_."

He gestured to the doors. "Let's go for a walk, shall we."

Keeping her hand on her wand, Helena nodded and left the castle with her brother, the normal awkward silence falling between them. It hadn't always been like this. Up until the age of eleven, Helena had looked up to her older brother—loved him, even. She didn't anymore. And he didn't love her, either. The spectre of Voldemort had divided Helena from her family completely, bound Lucius to a stupid sense of duty and who-knew-what-else. While she didn't think he was evil, she also didn't know why she thought that. She had a horrible feeling that she was clinging to the memory of her big brother rather than accepting the current reality. The man next to her didn't even bear a physical resemblance to him.

They got halfway around the Lake before she decided to be blunt. "Why are you here, Lucius?"

He turned assessing grey eyes on her, scanning her stubborn, set expression for a moment. "Very well. Narcissa, through her sister, has informed me of a rumour currently circulating the school; I wished to see if it was true."

"And the rumour regards…?"

"Yourself and your involvement with Sirius Black."

"What of it?"

"Is it true?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Helena, don't be tiresome."

"Don't be interfering."

"Answer my question."

"Well we're sleeping together, would you count that being _involved_?"

His eyes widened, and Helena laughed. "What's the matter, brother? Not the answer you were hoping for?"

"On the contrary. It's exactly what Father and I were hoping for."

"What?"

"Now that you've come to your senses, both of you, you needn't be ostracised from your family. I'm sure the Blacks will be overjoyed their son has settled on a bride with the pedigree the Malfoy family brings-"

"_What_? Lucius, we're not getting married! And Sirius would hang himself before he goes back to his parents' 'forgiveness', believe me!"

"But you just said-"

"I _said _we were sleeping together! I've no intention of marrying him!" Helena turned on her heel and paced away for a few steps before spinning back to Lucius. "Any other brother would go and curse the person who'd defiled his baby sister—your only concern is whether or not I'm sleeping with the right person!"

He grasped her shoulder. "Think, Helena, I beg you. If you continue the way you have been, Father will have no choice but to disown you. Don't be a child; come back to us."

"And do what? Marry some pureblood arsehole and then become a Death Eater, like you?"

He didn't deny the charge, and Helena felt a lead weight drop into her stomach. She hadn't wanted to believe it. Mouth set in a grim line, she shook his hand off. "Don't come to the castle again, Lucius. In fact, don't _speak _to me again. Whoever you are now, you're not my brother. And I don't want anything to do with you."

He sighed. "We'll talk when you're in a more rational frame of mind. You may go back to the castle, Helena."

"Thank you so much for the _permission_!" she snarled, storming away.

The anger was still radiating from her when she got to Gryffindor Tower fifteen minutes later, the long walk back from the lake having done nothing to calm her down. How _dare_ he? She couldn't be surprised to find her family trying to organise her a marriage, but to jump on teenage _gossip_ was ridiculous, and to tell her she was being irrational when she refused to believe Voldemort's victory was assured-!

When she entered the common room, she made a beeline for Sirius. "Promise me something."

"What?"

"Never marry me."

"You what?"

"Promise me, Padfoot."

He raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't in the plan, Hellfire."

"You still have to promise me. Even if it's choice between marrying me and death, you have to tell me you won't ever even consider-"

"Alright, alright. I promise I won't marry you," he said, obviously bemused.

"Thank you."

That done, she moved over to where Lily was sitting, already working on the homework McGonagall had given them. She looked up as Helena sat down. "You look annoyed."

"That would be because of my darling brother. Are your siblings so _frustrating_?"

Lily's mouth turned down at the corners. "Petunia barely speaks to me anymore."

"I _wish _Lucius didn't speak to me."

"He's still your brother, Helena."

"No. He really isn't."

She got out her quill, inkwell, parchment and books then set about making notes on the creation of portkeys. McGonagall had wanted a little of the history of them, pitfalls involved in their making and the legislation governing use of them. She'd only gotten as far as the second point when Lily began clearing her throat. It took until the third time she did it before Helena looked up. "You alright, Lily?"

"I'm fine."

She went back to her work; Lily went back to clearing her throat. "_What_?"

The redhead tilted her head across the common room, to where Helena's bedmate was deep in flirtation with Mary MacDonald. "Is that it?"

Lily eyed her appraisingly. "You really don't care, do you?"

"Why should I?"

"You shouldn't."

"There you go then," she answered lightly, returning to her homework. Lily grinned at her for moment before doing the same.

* * *

It turned out Sirius was deep in seduction mode. Mary MacDonald being possibly the only seventh year (she wasn't clear) he hadn't yet slept with. And apparently getting a perfect sex record was more important than, say, passing all his NEWTs, so Sirius was focusing on that rather than the mocks they had coming up just before Christmas. Helena on the other hand _did _care about her exams, so to Lily's approval was focusing on them. Admittedly, she was a little hornier than she'd like to be, but that couldn't be helped. Sirius could be a man-whore all he liked, but she wasn't going to be complicit in him two-timing. That, and she had more self-esteem than to be the bit on the side.

With her days filled with schoolwork and her evenings _not _filled by sex anymore, she did have time for something she'd been neglecting. A promise she'd made to her friends. With a weekend ahead of her, she picked up quill and ink and made her way over to where three of the Marauders were gathered, two of them playing chess while Peter watched. She sat down.

"Sorry."

"For what?" James asked.

"For not helping you with the map when I said I would. And it would be easy to blame Padfoot, but it would also be unfair. So if you still want my help then I'm here."

"Oh. Well, we did, but we kind've started without you. It's still just a map though. The rooms and everything are on there, and we managed to make it appear and disappear at will-"

"How?"

James' eyes twinkled. "I'll show you. Half a tick."

He disappeared upstairs, and then just as quickly appeared again holding a tattered piece of parchment. He presented to Helena eagerly. She took it with markedly less enthusiasm. "Is this it?"

"Yep!"

"Is it always going to look so…used?"

"Well how else is it going to be disguised when it's blank?"

"True I suppose…" She spread it out over the chessboard, much to the protestation of the pieces. She shushed them and carried on. It really did just look like a tatty bit of parchment. "Okay, so how do I _un_blank it?"

"Work that out for yourself."

"Prongs, just tell me. You know I hate theatrics."

He grinned, then touched the tip of his wand to the parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

"I highly doubt you need to _solemnly_ swear-" Helena cut off, her jaw dropped as thin, curly black lines of ink began to spread out from nowhere. She watched with widening eyes as it continued. A detailed image of the castle first, with a lake of ink in the centre courtyard. "The Marauder's Map," she read, looking up to the top. "Messers. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present…"

"Open it," Remus urged.

She did so, and the lines were still unfolding. The parchment had seven layers to correspond with the floors in the castle, and she was looking at the first one. The entrance hall, the Great Hall, the staircases. "This is… Well, I'm a little impressed."

"Only a little?"

"Yes, only a little. But it's a good start. And completely wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Yes, wrong," she said, folding the map up and handing it back to him. "Did you not wonder why I told you you needed to soak the parchment in Hogwarts, or why you needed part of the Sorting Hat?"

"Well you told us we needed to make the parchment, which we did, from scratch-"

"And did you also include some stone from the castle walls, or a splinter of wood from the front doors?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Didn't think we'd think of that, did you?"

"Honestly…no." She cleared her throat. "Right, then now we need the piece of the Sorting Hat Padfoot has and some ink."

Once she had it, she disintegrated it into a fine dust and stirred it into the ink, then corked the bottle and shook it up and down to disperse the miniscule particles of the Hat in the liquid. The three lads watched her with curiosity.

"Okay. Let's see if this works… If it doesn't, my grandmother would be ashamed of me."

She uncorked the ink and upended it over the map, the whole bottle. The Marauders all gasped in horror. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just watch," she urged.

"But-"

"Seriously, James, calm down. Look."

They did look, and the pool of ink was already dispersing, to be sucked into the parchment and disappear into nothing. Helena unfolded the map completely so that it spread out over the surface of the whole table. She touched the tip of her wand to it. "_Assimilato_."

Immediately, dots of ink welled up onto the surface of the parchment, some moving and some still. "These are all the people in the castle."

"And how exactly do we know who they are?" James asked, obviously annoyed.

"Did I say I'd finished?"

He folded his arms and frowned, but didn't interrupt any further. It was obvious that he wasn't impressed by whatever she thought she was doing. "_Nomine ostruvu_."

Helena leaned forward, biting her lip. Catching her tense posture, Remus and Peter did the same. James, after a moment and after much trying to look casual, did the same. The first name did not take long to appear. A dot that appeared to be pacing up and down and around a circular room was joined by the suffix _Albus Dumbledore_.

Helena clapped her hands excitedly. "Yes, it worked!"

Dumbledore wasn't the last; within five minutes the map was covered in names

James clapped her on the shoulder. "Brilliant. Well done, Helena."

"Thank you. I am rather brilliant, aren't I?"

"You are."

"There is something that I can't do though. You'll have to put in the spells to get into the secret passageways. The castle keeps them hidden for a reason; if you want your successors to be able to open them as easily as you can then you're going to have to tell them how to do it."

"That's okay. There are only seven or so," Peter said reasonably.

"Good, then it shouldn't take you too long."

"How do we make the spell appear and disappear when we want it to?"

"Well if you want it to move then it's your basic animation spell. As for the opening and closing incantations, possibly proximity might help and the castle might unlock it for you. If it doesn't then I'll have to do more research into it."

"Well, no time like the present."

"But it's after curfew. Not that that has ever stopped you, mind," Helena added, catching herself. "Can I come with you to check?"

He shrugged. "Don't see why not. We can't use the cloak though, the two of us wouldn't fit."

"Cloak?"

"Have to leave us some secrets, Helena," James smiled, getting up. "Besides, with _this _thing, we'll know where Filch is the whole time."

The two of them left the tower rather timidly, eyes on the map the whole time. In the common room, Helena had felt completely confident in her cartography skills, and the map seemed to be working fine. It was showing Argus Filch prowling around the north tower, with the cat—she couldn't remember what its name was—doing the same in the dungeons. Helena had hated that cat from the moment Filch brought it into Hogwarts. She'd always been a dog person herself, though had never been allowed to keep one in the manor. Animals were too unclean to be in her mother's house. Bad enough that she had to allow Dobby anywhere but the kitchen. When she was a little girl, she'd managed to talk Lucius into talking their father into buying her a pony, but when she'd outgrown Sparky, he hadn't been replaced by a horse.

"Where are we going?" she asked after a while.

"Fourth floor. There's a passageway behind a mirror up there."

When they arrived, the mirror reflected them in ghostly images, pale and dark in the gloomy corridor. "Okay, let's see…" James pulled his wand out. "_Lumos_. What does the map say?"

She peered closer at the parchment. "_Abra_- Oh you are _kidding _me!"

James laughed. "Don't worry, it's not actually abra kadabra."

"Good." The map wasn't finished though—rather than finish with 'kadabra', the incantation was instead _abra laqueur._ James nodded approvingly. "That's right. We're good. Well done, Helena."

She shook her head and patted the wall. "Hogwarts did that, not me. I love this castle, I really do. I'm amazed it's not actively sentient. There must be centuries of magic soaked into the walls alongside the spells the founders laid into it."

James nodded thoughtfully, than said abruptly. "I'm going to miss it."

"Me too."

They spent a moment smiling sadly at each other, then James sighed. "Come on, let's go back and tell the others it worked."

She nodded. "Can I have the map? Just for a day or so."

James shrugged. "Sure. What for?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Okay. When you want it blank, it's _mischief managed._"

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! **

**Chapter Six**

Mary MacDonald was proving unexpectedly difficult to charm. He'd done all the normal things—gone out of his way to attract her attention, offered to help with carrying her books from class to class, paid her compliments…and so far, it had made her blush, they'd gone down to Hogsmeade together and held hands and done general coupley things. But when it came to physical intimacy, she backed off. It had occurred to him that she was probably still a virgin. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. She wouldn't be the first he'd…deflowered in his time, but that was before everything got so bloody jaded, before he kept getting bored all the sodding time. The only way he even found sex appealing anymore was when it was just sex. It was why he was enjoying it with Helena so much. _Uncomplicated_.

The timing of Mary's wooing wasn't exactly brilliant either. They both had mock-NEWTs before the Christmas holidays, and those grades would be what went on job applications. Failing them might mean becoming an auror would have to wait another six months. Meant living in a _tent _for another half a year. Not that the Potters had ever been anything but generous and kind—but it would be nice to have his own place.

Putting so much effort into the budding romance with Mary meant that his schoolwork was feeling the pinch. Normally missing essay deadlines didn't matter, but this close to any kind of exams the professors were always tense. And even the friendliest of them did not now appreciate his levity about it all. In the space of two lessons, both Slughorn and McGonagall had utterly lost their temper at him, the latter threatening to go straight to Dumbledore and recommend he be removed from the school altogether. They had many committed students; one lay-about would drag the rest down. He really hoped Mary MacDonald was worth all this trouble.

By the time St Andrew's Day came around, Mary did seem to be finally softening up. He was enjoying her company. She wasn't _that _irritating when she wasn't talking, and she had nice hair and after eight weeks of being with him, she wasn't a bad kisser either. But she was still reserved. And he still couldn't help comparing her to Helena, all the time in Helena's favour. Mary kissed gently, timidly. Helena, even when she _was _nervous, had never been timid. And she had never held anything back. Mary held almost everything back.

But apparently not tonight.

When she took his hand, he wondered briefly if she'd been drinking. But there was no taste or smell of alcohol on her breath when she kissed him. They got as far as undressing him before the vestiges of his conscience woke up. When her fingers went down to his trousers, his stopped them.

She looked up, startled. "What's wrong?"

_Yeah, what _is _wrong? _a pissed-off voice asked. Was this actually him about to pass up the chance of getting laid. _What_? While his brain struggled to find a reason for this ridiculous pause, his mouth was struggling to string an explanation together. "It- It's just- Just that-"

Mary dropped her hands with a sigh and a nod. "I think I understand."

She did? Great, maybe she could explain it to him.

"You want to wait."

"I what?"

"It's okay, Sirius. I understand. And I don't mind, really—we both have exams to pass and your ambitions mean a lot to you."

"Well, that's true…"

She kissed him. "I couldn't claim to care about you and take your focus away from that. So, after we finish, we can pick up again. I'll wait for you, I promise I will."

Utterly bewildered now, Sirius just nodded. Mary gathered her clothes and left. He was still completely confused as to what had, and_ how_ that, had just happened. And why he'd let it. He still hadn't found an answer when he went downstairs ten minutes later to seek answers in the flickering common room fire. There were about a dozen people down there, but only one who attracted his attention: Helena. She hadn't noticed him come down, apparently too deep in whatever work it was she was doing.

She was sat much closer to the fire than he was, quill scribbling furiously away on the parchment. It couldn't be comfortable; it was still unseasonably warm for being nearly winter, and judging by the amount of ink-covered paper hanging off the other side of the table, she'd been there for a while. He could see sweat beading along her forehead from here, but Helena didn't seem to have noticed. Then she started shedding layers. She was still reading as she did it, so her movements were slow—and if he didn't know better, teasing—as she pulled off the top part of her robes. The cardigan she wore underneath, that was next. Then her tie. Sirius felt himself grow a little tenser with the loss of each layer, his body reacting a little more with the more skin which was revealed. When her fingers went up to undo the top two buttons of her blouse, he had to swallow hard. Suddenly he'd missed the feel of her incredibly. It was like watching her do an tortuously slow striptease. An tortuously slow, _ridiculously_ sexy striptease.

Fingertips sliding into the neckline of her blouse to briefly scratch an itch, Helena remained unaware of his gaze. She put her quill down, reaching to the pile of books stacked crazily in front of her. From the frown on her face, she couldn't find the book she was looking for.

"Oh piss," she muttered.

She got up and headed to the door, not bothering to take her outer school robes with her. He guessed she was headed to the library, but as long as at some point in that journey she was alone, he didn't care. And sure enough, she ducked through a hidden passageway behind a tapestry which cut off two floors. He wasn't far behind her. In an echo of what she'd done a few weeks ago, he grabbed her hand suddenly. Rather than jump, Helena turned with a grin.

He went to kiss her; she turned her head at the last second so that his lips met her neck rather than her lips. "I take it you missed me?" she whispered, brushing her mouth against his but refusing to kiss him.

He pressed his hips firmly against hers. "Does that answer your question?"

His fingers were just on the point of hooking themselves through her underwear when the tapestry was pulled back again. Almost knowing who they'd see, both of them turned their heads at the same time. Mary stared right back, her face paling fast and her expression a mix of horror and mortification.

Well…this was awkward. Still, at least she'd interrupted them at the kissing/groping stage. A moment or two later and she really would have been treated to a show. After staring for no more than five seconds, Mary turned on her heel and almost ran away.

Helena shoved Sirius away from her. "You didn't break up with her, did you?"

"Yes, of course I did!"

"When?"

"About…fifteen minutes ago."

"Padfoot! For God's sake! You couldn't have controlled yourself for _one _day at least? Even a couple of hours would have been better!"

"Well it wasn't exactly helped with you doing your striptease in the common room! You knew exactly what you were doing to me-"

"How is it my fault if I'm better than you assumed I was going to be?" she demanded. "I'm not responsible for you missing me, Sirius—I never asked you to leave my bed for some other girl's! If you didn't find spice in variety, it's not my problem."

He shook his head. "Helena, you said this wasn't going to be a issue! But you're getting emotional about this after all, aren't you?"

She laughed. "I am, but not over you, you cocky bastard! I'm fucking angry that _I_ have to look like the bad guy because you can't keep it in your trousers! If you want to continue leaving a mess of human wreckage, Sirius, you go ahead, but _don't _use me as your excuse to do it!"

With that, she stormed off, leaving Sirius by himself to wonder how, in as many hours, he'd managed to strike out twice.

* * *

Helena managed to last the whole of the next day without finding herself alone with Mary or Sirius. She was still pissed off as hell with the latter, and feeling awkward about the former. Going to bed early though, Helena found herself sharing the dormitory with Mary, and only Mary. She avoided eye contact as much as possible, and didn't say anything. The other girl was the first to break the silence.

"It's not going to work you know," she suddenly said.

"What isn't?" Helena asked.

"This trick to get Sirius interested, fucking with his head like this-"

"Fucking with his head?" she repeated, genuinely puzzled. "_How_ am I fucking with his head?"

Mary folded her arms and glared narrow-eyed at her. "He broke up with _me_ to focus on his exams because being an auror is everything to him- _What _is so funny?"

Helena couldn't help at; halfway through Mary's sentence she'd burst out laughing, and now couldn't stop. "Oh, Mary. Poor, sweet, deluded Mary. How have you done it?"

"Done what?" the other girl snapped.

"Gotten to seventh year without any of the teachers realising how _monumentally_ stupid you are."

Mary gaped briefly. "How dare you-"

"Mary, this is what he's _always_ done. The fact that NEWTs are this year just provides a good excuse. I can't believe you haven't figured that out."

Blotches of colour appeared high on Mary's cheeks. "Well _you_ can't expect any better," she said nastily. "No one buys the cow if they can get the milk for free."

Helena chuckled again, more gently this time. "Who said the cow was for sale? Despite whatever comforting platitudes your mother has drilled into your skull, my dear, sleeping with a man does not mean that a woman wants to marry him. And given the age we live in, the idea that men 'buy' their wives is not a terribly healthy attitude, wouldn't you agree? Believe me, I have _no_ interest in him beyond the physical. I'm afraid your jealousy is misplaced. Just like your nose."

Mary fled with room sobbing.

"I didn't _mean _to make her cry," Helena explained to a furious Lily later that evening, "but you know I don't have any time for women like that. She didn't even have the courage of her convictions to hit me. _You _would have hit me."

"True, but you know Mary's not as…as…tough as you. If she was happy believing that Black dumped her not because he got bored but because his 'work' was so important then where's the harm in that?"

"She didn't believe it!" Helena protested. "If she'd believed it, she would have hit me! All I did was open her eyes to how pathetic she was being so that she can move on to the rest of her life without falling into the beds of men like Sirius Black. And hopefully stop listening to the _absurd _advice of her idiotic mother."

Lily glared a little more, and Helena felt her eyebrows begin to smoulder. "But I will of course apologise to her."

"Good." She carried on glaring.

"You want me to go now?"

"Yes I want you to go now!"

"Urgh, fine. But I am doing this for you, Lily, you realise that?"

"I do. Mary's still in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

Sighing, Helena left the common room and went upstairs to the bathroom. She sighed as she reached the door. "Oh bollocks."

Mary was sitting on the edge of one of the sinks, sniffing loudly and sobbing quietly. "Oh go away, Malfoy."

"I came to say I'm sorry. I had a bad day and I took it out on you," Helena lied.

"No, you're right," Mary said thickly, wiping her cheeks free of thick black mascara tracks. "He's a complete bastard."

"Complete bastard," Helena echoed.

"I j-just th-thought he'd…" The rest of her sentences was lost in sobs. Helena approached cautiously, hearing a few snatches like, "disgrace to womankind" and "such an idiot". She privately agreed with every self-deprecatory thing that Mary said, but since Lily would curse her silly if she voiced her opinions, she kept silent and conjured the odd tissue when required. It was an exercise of sheer will, she kept telling herself. Will and _patience_. Despite all best efforts, though, she couldn't find any real sympathy for Mary. She was whiny, blind and not especially intelligent, but had been arrogant enough—as had all the others—to believe that she could change another person's character. Finally Mary ran out of tears, and Helena was able to bundle her off to bed without giving into the frustrations that had built to breaking point in her head.

Once Mary was in bed, she went back downstairs. "Was it as bad as you thought?" Lily asked kindly.

"Million times worse. You _owe _me," Helena said, walking quickly across the room toward the portrait. "But you can pay me back later."

"Where are you going?"

"Where do you _think _I'm going?" she muttered, the Fat Lady swinging shut behind her. "I definitely deserve to get laid after that…"

The map showed him in the astronomy tower; Helena used a shortcut to get there. The tower was empty, as it was only just sunset. The stars wouldn't be visible for a good hour yet, though Venus was making her ascent. Sirius was alone in there, cloth in hand and cleaning the lenses of each telescope individually by hand, she assumed for a detention. Helena locked the door behind her.

"I have no idea how you managed to get Mary MacDonald to shut up long enough to sleep with her."

He grinned, putting the cloth down. "I have my ways."

Helena sighed, and moved over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Well then you'll have to tell them to me."

"Or I could show you."

"That could work."

She kissed him deeply, fingers already working at his fly. Hands lifting her skirt, he walked them backward to one of the high stools next to the telescopes. Helena straddled his lap, finding him already hard for her. She couldn't help the moan which left her throat; she had missed him, more than she'd wanted to admit. He unbuttoned her blouse but didn't try and take her bra off. Instead he tugged down the cups, revealing each breast and thumbing her nipples. Arching her back, Helena sank down onto him anything but slowly. They moved fast, Helena's skin feeling too much like it was on fire to enjoy a slow, sexy screw. Time for that later; for now it was just a race to climax. Back in her hot, tight wetness, Sirius realised he was too close to the edge too fast to make sure she orgasmed before him. A few strokes at her clit took care of that, though. It pushed her over the edge at the same time he crashed over it, groaning her name.

He took no small satisfaction at hearing how ragged her breathing was, or how liquid she'd gone against him. Head against his shoulder, hair streaming down her back, she sighed happily. "…that's much better…"

She shivered when he pinched her nipple and nipped her neck. "Damn you, woman. No one else does that to me."

"Told you."

"Yesterday you hated me—what changed your mind?"

"I haven't. You're still a bastard," she said, matter-of-fact. "I just didn't realise how much of a cowbag she was."

"I didn't actually sleep with her, you know."

She pulled back, staring. "You didn't?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Unsure. Possibly something like conscience."

"Oh." She paused. "Are you really going to fail Transfiguration?"

"Nah. I'll just pull something out of my hat."

"Best not a rabbit though," she smiled.

"What?"

"Something Lily told me. Apparently it's what muggle magicians do. Pull rabbits out of hats."

"_Why_?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. They don't _really _do it, of course, but…" Another silence while they disengaged their bodies. Dressing—or rather straightening her clothes—she asked, "Does James really like her? Lily, I mean. Or is it just that she's like Mary to you—a hill that can't be climbed?"

"No, he really does like her. Maybe even loves her. Why?" he asked curiously. "She's not warming up to him is she?"

"No, but she doesn't dislike him as much as she says," Helena shrugged. "I think it actually _is _her being stubborn. That's quite annoying. Especially since she'd never admit it if you asked."

Sirius gasped in mock horror. "You're not actually thinking of breaking your sacred rule of neutrality are you, Hellfire?"

"Not breaking it, just…thinking about it."

Apparently she wasn't the only one who'd been thinking about it. Three days later, while practicing her Transfiguration, James came up to her with a rather desperate expression on his face.

"Help me."

Helena looked up from transfiguring her quill into a magpie. "With what?"

"With Lily."

"Ah. No."

His face fell. "No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because she's my friend. And so far I've managed to survive by not picking a side. I'm not about to start now. _Regenarisa._"

With a caw, the quill grew a magpie. Which then set about looking for shiny things. Helena removed an earring for it to examine before it could take it from her ear. James took a snitch out of his pocket too.

"Please, Hel. Don't you want Lily to be happy?"

"Of course I do."

"And don't you want me to be happy?"

"Yes."

"There you are then."

"You're assuming I believe you can make each other happy."

"I _know_ Lily could make me happy," James said emphatically. Then his face fell. "Hang on, are you saying I couldn't make _her _happy?"

"Look, James, as a friend, you're brilliant," she said frankly. "You're fun, and fun_ny_, and clever, and brave and loyal. But as boyfriend material? _All _of that is _completely _negated by the fact that you know it."

His face fell. "All of it?"

"Yes. If anything, the good things combine to become one huge turn-off."

He frowned indignantly and gestured at where Sirius was busy showing off by sending conjured songbirds over to Emily Sanders, where they tweeted prettily around her head. "Hang on—you're sleeping with _him_!"

"Yes, and that's why it's just sex," she said. "There's no _way _I'd want him as a boyfriend. Arrogance can be sexy, but it's never something you want around for long. And you want to be around Lily for a while, don't you?"

"Yes!"

"Then you can't carry on as you have been."

"Alright, then _what _do I need to change?"

Helena put down her wand, turned to face him appraisingly. "Honestly?"

"Yes."

"First, scale down your arrogance."

"I'm not that bad-"

"James, if you'd been on the _Titanic_, it wouldn't have been sunk by the iceberg, it wouldn't have been able to take the weight of your ego," she smirked. "We all know you're good at Quidditch—the whole house turns out to watch every match, _including _Lily. She doesn't need to be told what won the match against Hufflepuff two summers ago and she doesn't need to know why that catch you made on the twenty seventh was so amazing."

"Point taken."

"Secondly: stop hexing people for fun. That includes Slytherins. Especially Snape."

"_Snape_?" James spluttered. "He called her a-" he lowered his voice, "he called her a _mudblood_!"

"Yes, and for some reason that upset her more than it should have done, it didn't make her angry," Helena said patiently. "Don't ask me why, James, I don't know. I think he's as much of a slimeball as you do. But you need to stop hexing for fun. Defend yourself if you're attacked, fine, but _stop _picking on people."

"I still don't get why Slytherins are exempt from this."

"Think about it. Why would Lily want a guy she knows can be cruel? Not only cruel, but can find _amusement _in it? Especially in these times."

"Hold on, are you comparing me to a _Death Eater_?" James demanded, looking really angry for the first time.

"No. I'm comparing you to a wanker."

He folded his arms and looked annoyed, but didn't argue further. Helena wasn't done yet though, and when his hand went up toward his head, she grabbed his wrist. "James, for the love of everything holy, for the sake of _Merlin's beard_, stop playing with your hair. Just stop. It's annoying. And it makes you look like a prat at best, at worst a little camp."

James gaped. "Ca-"

"Yes. Get over it."

"Anything else?" he snapped.

"Just one. Don't ask her out again for a while. If you really are going to change, then you need to give Lily some time to _see _that change, otherwise there's no point in it."

"How long is a while?"

"Until after the Christmas Holidays. That way she'll have had another few weeks to see the change, and another three to think about it, so that by the time we get back she'll have missed you and then you're golden as a galleon. Think you can handle that?"

She patted his shoulder and then changed the magpie back into a quill before it could swallow the earring she'd given it.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N:Thank you for the reviews! And I'm sorry for the long wait on this chapter - kept blocking me with some kind of error. ANNOYED. Fixed now though. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Seven**

Over the next fortnight, James reminded Helena of all the reasons she was his friend. She'd always known he had the potential to be a genuinely nice guy, but now he was showing it. She wasn't sure whether wounded pride might have stopped him from accepting all the advice she'd given him, but he'd done the opposite, and was embracing it whole-heartedly.

It was a shame Lily was responding anything but positively.

"It's not right, I'm telling you," Lily said abruptly in the middle of dinner one evening.

"What isn't?"

"This new_ thing _Potter think's he's doing! I want to know what's going on."

Helena followed her gaze to the Marauders, where Sirius was trying and failing to get James to join him in a food fight. She shrugged. "I'm sure he's just maturing."

Lily's expression made it clear what she thought of that. "No. Whatever this new attitude is, it stinks."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because he can't be an arse for seven _years _and then do a complete u-turn on his whole personality! There's something fishy about it."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I know who he is and this is _not _it."

"Really?" Helena asked, sweeping a piece of bread around her plate of stew, "I thought you'd spent as much time as possible avoiding getting to know him."

Lily looked at her for a moment, then her hair began to seriously clash with the shade of red creeping up her neck. "Well of course I have! I'm just saying from a _distance_, as an impartial observer-"

"-an impartial observer who loathes the ground he walks on-"

"-there's something off about it, Helena."

"Why are you so sure it's not just natural personality evolution? It had to happen at some point—he wasn't going to be an arse for the rest of his life was he? I know you think he takes nothing seriously but he wants to be an auror for bloody good reasons, Lily. And the Death Eaters aren't exactly going to be a good crowd for comedy, are they?"

"I suppose not," her friend acknowledged, "but he hasn't asked me out _once_ in about three weeks, Helena! _That_ is out of character, you have to admit, even if she _is _maturing."

"Okay, so his tastes are maturing too. You were a teenage crush, now he's looking for something different. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Lily blinked in a startled way. "Of course it is."

"Well then what's the problem?"

"There isn't one I guess."

Helena smiled, though she could see how confused Lily was, by her own reaction more than anything. She'd known she didn't hate James, but if she'd been honest, her realistic goal had been them as friends. Now it looked as though she didn't know Lily's heart as well as she'd thought.

* * *

No matter what Helena said, Lily was still suspicious. People did _not _change overnight the way James Potter had. She'd seen him _helping _younger students for God's sake! He was doing it again right now, sitting in the common room with a second year and going through the best method for swelling solutions with him, soothing the boy's fears with assurances that he was going to be fine.

"In potions maybe, but I'm _definitely _going to fail in everything else," the kid said miserably, "I may as well quit now. No way I'm going to pass Trasnfiguration. I can't face McGonagall at the best of times."

"She's not that scary providing you work hard," James smiled. Had he always had such a nice smile, Lily thought idly? "Even if you're failing, as long as you're giving it your all, she'll help. She's not a gorgon, you know, even if she seems that way. And that if worst came to worst, you could even go and talk to Dumbledore."

The boy's jaw dropped. "Dum-Dumbledore? I'm not important enough to go and talk to Dumbledore!"

"All students are important to Dumbledore, second or seventh years."

"Really?"

"Really."

The second year smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem. Are you going to be okay from here? I have to go and patrol the corridors, make sure no one's breaking curfew."

Lily blinked, looking at her watch in surprise. They did have to go and patrol the corridors, as part of their duties as Head Girl and Head Boy, but she couldn't remember the last time James had voluntarily fulfilled any part of his duty. Another suspicious thing she had to chalk up. She hastily put her books away and followed him out of the portrait hole. He didn't start flirting immediately, which set Lily on edge immediately. They'd walked around about half of the castle by the time he spoke.

"So… How did you do on the Herbology essay?"

"Okay. Professor Sprout said I needed to work on my diagrams more. My Eurdorean Briar Rose wasn't precise enough."

He nodded. "Mine wasn't brilliant either. Got a decent mark for it though."

Another thing that didn't feel right—he was doing well in schoolwork now because he was _trying _rather than because he was blagging his way through. "I have a feeling she'd marked mine right after Helena's, though, and you know what an artist she is when she has a mind to be."

He nodded, and they lapsed into silence again. Lily waited for it. And waited. And waited. But still nothing. By the time they'd rounded up a couple of Slytherins, three Hufflepuffs and escorted about half a dozen Gryffindors back to the tower, her patience had run out. "Alright, what's going on?" she demanded, coming to a halt outside the Fat Lady.

"What do you mean?"

"With you. _What_ are you trying? Because I can tell you know, if this is some elaborate plan to get me to go out with you, it's _not _going to work."

He frowned. "Evans, what are you talking about?"

"You might have Helena convinced into thinking you're maturing, but _I _know better. You're not fooling me one bit, Potter."

His expression closed. "Whatever, Evans."

Lily blinked at the sudden chill in his tone, but when she opened her mouth to say something, words wouldn't come. James didn't wait for words, and moved into the common room without another word. When she followed, he was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

The next day, a very depressed-looking James sat down next to Helena at breakfast, helping himself to fried eggs and then poked at them with a fork. "What's up with you?"

He sighed, breaking the yolk of one of the eggs and watching the yellow bleed out over his plate. "It's not working." At her questioning look, he elaborated. "With Lily, it's not working. She thinks I'm being conniving and that it's just a trick. She seemed really pissed off."

"So what's the problem?" she asked. "It seems to be working perfectly to me."

He squinted. "How'd you work that out?"

"She cares. If she was completely apathetic about it, then you'd have a problem. But the fact that you've unsettled her so much means we're getting somewhere. Either that, or she genuinely hates your guts. Which she doesn't," she added hurriedly at the forlorn look which must have crossed his face.

"You really think so?" he asked, unable to help the hopeful note in his voice.

Helena squeezed his shoulder. "I do. Don't lose hope—keep playing it cool, and you're going to get her attention in all the best ways."

James still wasn't convinced, but Helena seemed so sure it was going to work. And he'd trust a girl to know what was going on inside a girl's head better than anyone. But the truth was he _needed _this to work. Asking Lily out all the time when she was in the same castle was one thing; once they graduated from Hogwarts he couldn't follow her around and do the same thing. That _would _be stalking, and he wasn't going to do that. If Lily didn't want him by the end of summer term, then he'd just have to accept that heartbreak was going to be it for him for a very long time.

Apart from the occasional encouraging smile or remark, he didn't get much more from Helena. The only times he saw her were classes, meal times, and her back as it was disappearing up the staircase, her hand in Sirius'. That, and she _giggled_ now. Equally disturbing was the suspicion which had been growing in his mind—that Padfoot was actually falling for her. How you could know a girl from childhood, be one of her best friends for years, and only _then _fall for her, he wasn't sure. With Lily, he'd liked her from the first moment he'd seen her. Her hair was just… And then her eyes, they just… Her mouth was… When she smiled, she lit up the _room_…

Sighing, James shook his head. Who was he kidding? Until the day the train dropped them off at King's Cross for the final time, he was never going to give up on Lily. She was worth trying. She was worth anything. And since every other plan had failed, Helena's was certainly worth following through. So he'd spent weeks going against every impulse which crept up on him. No cursing the Slytherins unless under duress, no boasting about Quidditch—even though he'd made some _spectacular _catches recently—and getting all his homework in on time. Lily's open hostility to the idea hadn't lasted more than a couple of weeks, thankfully, and after a few more days of watching him carefully she'd dropped the guard. Not enough to actually give him any indication of whether she liked him back (that would have been too easy), but enough to tell him that she didn't despise him, either. By the time they got to the Christmas holidays, he still hadn't lost all hope…but it was getting harder not to.

One advantage to working hard, however, was that he knew his mocks had gone well. They couldn't _not _have gone well. Defence Against the Dark Arts particularly well. Those results, when they were ready, would be sent to the Auror Office at the Ministry, and hopefully he'd be offered a probationary place as an auror, as would Sirius. He couldn't help noticing how flawlessly Lily had done as well. Especially in Charms—she'd cast a disillusionment charm so well on herself that it had actually been impossible to spot her when she stood against the castle wall. It was depressing to realise that he probably would never see her again if this didn't work.

However, all that changed on the platform at Hogwarts station when they broke up for four weeks. Pushing his trunk on the train after the rest of the Marauders, he was just about to climb aboard when a voice called his name.

"Potter! Potter!"

He didn't take any notice until a hand fell on his arm. "James, wait, please."

A little stunned and not able to believe his luck, James found himself looking into Lily's anxious face. He let go of the train. "What's wrong, are you alright?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, but…I came to apologise."

"Apologise?"

"Yeah. I've been horrible to you recently. If you really are growing up then I can't criticise you for it. I'm sorry I was so suspicious of your motives. You're obviously relieved you've done well in your mocks, so…I'm sorry."

"Um- No problem."

"I mean I wouldn't blame you if you hate me. I was kind of a bitch."

He smiled. "You're not a bitch, Lily. And it's not like I haven't given you reason to think I'm an idiot."

"True," she smiled nervously. "So we're okay? What I mean is…can we be friends?"

He grinned. "Of course. It'll be weird, but I think we'll be good."

"Cool. Have a good Christmas."

"You too. I'll see you after New Years."

They parted with more smiles, and James didn't so much step up onto the train as he did float onto it. It was more progress than he'd made in seven _years_. He needed to find Helena and thank her right now.

When he found Helena's compartment though, something told him he shouldn't just open the door. It could have been the fact that the window had been made opaque, or the sounds of an argument coming through the door, or it could have been the red bra hanging from the doorhandle. James caught the end of a sentence.

"…had it last!"

"I think you'll find _you _had it last."

"You were the one ripping it off! I swear, if it's decorating the Scottish countryside somewhere, Sirius, I am going to _kill _you."

"What does it matter anyway? It's not like they sag, Hellfire."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?"

"Depends. If I say yes are you going to hit me?"

There was a muffled slap, followed by an "Ow!"

Holding it gingerly between finger and thumb, James picked up the bra and slid the door open a few inches, not looking inside. "Looking for this?"

It was snatched from his hand with a sigh of relief. A moment later, Helena opened the door—fully dressed, thankfully—looking annoyed. "Thanks, Prongs."

"Any time. Well, actually _not _any time. I'd prefer not to do it again, if I'm honest."

"Well, as long as _someone _looks where he's throwing it next time, we won't have this problem."

"How is it _my _fault? All I wanted was a goodbye shag-"

"Still in the room, guys!"

They fell silent at that, Helena colouring. She cleared her throat. "Right, well I think I'll go and find Lily." She kissed his cheek. "Have a good holiday, James. I'll see you when we get back." She nodded at Padfoot. "Sirius."

When she'd gone, Sirius made the glass in the compartment door go transparent again, and sat down staring mutteringly out of the window. "Anyone told you that whole thing is weird?" James asked conversationally.

"No. Don't."

"You can admit you're going to miss her, you know. Four weeks is a long time."

Sirius made a dismissive noise. "There are other girls."

"Uh huh."

Sirius looked over at him, frowning. "What's your point, Prongs?"

"No point."

* * *

Helena was disturbed from her sleep by a soft knock on her bedroom door. Groaning, she rolled over to look at the time; half past ten in the morning. The knock sounded again. She sat up in her huge four poster, stretching her arms.

"Come in."

The door opened, and in came Dobby bearing a tray of her breakfast. He bowed. "Dobby is wishing you happy birthday, miss. Here is your breakfast and post, miss."

Helena smiled and took the tray from him. "Thank you, Dobby. Am I still expected at dinner tonight?"

"Yes, miss. And Mistress says you is to be ready and dressed in an hour. She is taking you to Diagon Alley to buy you a new set of dress robes, she says."

Helena sighed. It sounded good, a shopping trip with her mother, but all Veronique Malfoy would be interested in doing would be to criticise everything her daughter picked out and push clothes that Helena hated on her. She doubted they'd leave London with anything she would ever wear outside of the manor. Tonight would be even worse. Her birthday was the solstice, about the only day that was actually celebrated under the Malfoy roof. Christmas itself was an entirely-too-muggle holiday, but the solstice? That had been there in the time of Morgana and Merlin. They would be celebrating that tonight, up all night to see the sunrise tomorrow morning, which meant any marking of Helena's birthday would be confined to a formal dinner tonight, with her future sister-in-law if she was lucky. _Joy of joys_.

"There are also your presents, miss," Dobby squeaked. "Delivered this morning by owl."

"I'll have to open them later," she sighed, getting up and opening her wardrobe. "I don't have time now."

"Very well, miss. Can I do anything else for you, miss?"

"No."

He bowed again, and backed out of the room. Helena picked out the most muggle of her clothes, knowing it would irritate her mother more than anything else. About twenty minutes later she was dressed in a mini dress and go-go boots, with a flowered ribbon as a headband. She used a hair potion to get her hair into the perfect waves before starting on her breakfast. As always, it was delicious. Dobby was always good with his food, but on her birthday for as long as she could remember he'd made eggs benedict, with crispy bacon and buttered toast on the side. And a pot of fresh Arabian coffee too.

Sequestered in her room, Helena took the tray to the window seat and looked out over the grounds as she ate. The lawn was still emerald green, kept that way by magic even in midwinter. The white peacocks were still strutting their stuff around the fountains and rose bushes. It was a beautiful view, and she would miss it. Probably one of the only things she _would _miss. In summer, when it was warm enough, she spent hours outside. Free of the oppressiveness of the house and her family, at least for a time. But from this summer, she was getting real, true freedom. Out of this house forever.

When she finally emerged from her bedroom, her mother was not pleased she had been kept waiting. Nor was she pleased that Helena was carrying the tray down. "Are you a common servant?" she snapped.

"No. I'm just not lazy."

"Hurry then."

She did so, and then joined her mother in the huge fireplace in the entrance hall, grabbing a pinch of floopowder as she did so. "Diagon Alley."

It was busy when they arrived, chock-full of wizards doing last minute Christmas shopping. Her mother wore a faint expression of distaste about the whole thing. "No doubt Madam Malkin's will be _swarming_."

"I don't see why we have to be here at all," Helena said. "It isn't as if I have a shortage of robes, Mother."

"You have a shortage of ones which suit your colouring and figure," Veronique contradicted her. "In any case, if you must be seen out in those ridiculous clothes then obviously you do not have enough robes."

"I _like _these clothes."

"Well, it was never said that good breeding made good taste."

They spent two agonising hours in the robe shop, with everything Helena picked out being instantly dismissed by her mother, and vice versa. Eventually they settled on a compromise—a set of dark green dress robes, made of the finest hand-spun silk and lace, naturally. Veronique surveyed her daughter appraisingly. "Such a shame. You almost look as though you belong in those colours."

"Well there's the same set in scarlet over there," Helena quipped.

At least she liked the fit. It had a slit up the skirt to the thigh, showing off her legs, which were her favourite part of her body. The neckline was high, but wide, showing her collarbones and the tops of her shoulder.

"Let's just buy it."

It had put her mother in a fine temper for the rest of the day; as soon as the robes were wrapped and in Helena's hand, Veronique led her all around Diagon Alley getting a succession of things Helena knew she didn't really need. The trip culminated in a trip down Knockturn Alley, of all places. She hated it at the best of times, but in _these _times… In these times she felt uncomfortably conspicuous being a Gryffindor down there. Veronique ducked into a shop selling rare (read: illegal) potion ingredients, directing her daughter to Borgin and Burkes with a purse of galleons.

"Your father requires a Jakari death mask. Ensure Burke does not try and pawn off a Manuri one for the same price; they are very similar-looking."

Scowling, Helena took the money thrust at her and left the potions shop, moving down the alley to 13B. The bell above the door of Borgin and Burkes tinkled pleasantly in a way that belied the nature of the goods on sale. It was dark and musty inside, full of things which seemed to be moving in the corner of her eye, but not when she looked directly at them. After a moment or two in which Helena stood in the middle of the room and far away from anything, the curtain behind the counter flicked to one side.

Burke smiled greasily and bowed. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I wish to purchase a Jakari death mask, or order one if you can't provide me with one today."

"I see. A potent item for potent magic."

"Yes. For my father's use."

"Ah, I see, I-" He cut off, peering more closely at her, eyes fixed on hers in a way not as leering as they had been before. Suddenly he took a step back, seeming afraid. "For- Forgive me, miss, have we met before?"

"No." If they had, she certainly would have refused to come in here again…

"And your family name…?"

"Malfoy."

He blinked again, fear apparently replaced by puzzlement. "Malfoy, really? I beg your pardon, Miss Malfoy—you bear little resemblance to your parents."

Helena stared in increasing concern, with no idea what in the hell he was talking about. She cleared her throat. "My item?"

He'd still yet to take his eyes from her face, but nodded. "Yes, we do have one in stock at the moment. Would you like it boxed?"

"Yes. Immediately."

He nodded slowly, but still didn't move. Helena was very, very glad when the door opened again and admitted her mother. Burke launched into action, disappearing out the back again. Helena, released from the beam of his gaze, swallowed hard and wondered why she felt so vulnerable.

"Well, do they have it?" Veronique asked.

"Yes, he's just getting it. I- I'll meet you back in Diagon Alley, Mother. Excuse me."

She almost ran out of the shop and back up into the sunlight of the main shopping arcade, breathing hard. She still couldn't think of any reason why she should be so afraid. But she was. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty and her throat was dry. She still hadn't calmed down when her mother arrived. She frowned when she saw Helena. "You look quite flushed. I do hope you've not been running, Helena. It's not seemly for a lady to run in public."

All in all, she was incredibly relieved to be going home again. It wasn't until she had been given a cup of tea that she really felt calm again. And slightly embarrassed over the way she'd panicked for no reason whatsoever. Sipping at her earl grey, she let out a deep sigh. Dobby paused in his polishing of the silverware.

"Is you alright, miss?"

"Fine. Fetch my birthday presents, would you?"

He bowed. "Of course, miss."

A few seconds later, he reappeared with a small bundle of parcels for her. "Here you are, miss. Anything else Dobby can do for you?"

"No, thank you, Dobby, you may get on."

The first package was from Lily, and unsurprisingly was a book, large and heavy. It was a fully illustrated biography of St Mungo and the building of the hospital. Flicking idly through it, Helena had ideas of drawing another map, one detailing all the hidden passageways of the hospital. There had be some—granted, St Mugo's wasn't as old as Hogwarts, but it was still a building with centuries' worth of magic impregnated in the walls. Helena smiled as she closed the book for now. Certainly, Lily would not have had that in mind when she sent it. James had sent her what he always had: a huge package of sweets, with all the old favourites and a few new ones. Some of which Helena didn't necessarily like the look of, but she'd give them a go anyway. Probably once they were back at Hogwarts, and probably once they'd all consumed copious amounts of mead. Peter had done what he normally did, and copied James. Remus had been his usual kind, thoughtful self. In their letters she'd explained how much trouble she was having sleeping through the net—another thing she could not explain—so Remus had sent her a recipe for a dreamless sleep potion. She already had access to one in her potions books, but he'd included annotations in this one, like: _I know how hopeless you are with potions_.

"Cheeky sod," she muttered cheerfully.

There was a card from Sirius, _Happy Birthday _in an untidy scrawl, but no present. There was a post script though. _Still looking. I'll give it to you when I find it!_

* * *

**A/N: Please review. It was my birthday yesterday :D **


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to CC for the beta :) **

**Chapter Eight**

Dinner that night was as staid and stifling as it had always been. There was little or no conversation that didn't involve Lucius' wedding, and as the main course was served, her father raised his glass.

"Happy Birthday, Helena."

That was it. One toast, and it was over for another year. If she'd been like the others, then this would be a cocktail party, music and laughter and maybe some dancing. Except she wasn't like the others, and anyone her parents would allow in their house, she wouldn't touch with a barge pole. The only good thing about this birthday was that it was the last one she'd have to mark like this. By the time her first pay cheque came in from St Mungo's, she was leaving, and she was never coming within twenty miles of the place ever again.

After dinner, Abraxus went back up to his study, Mother went back to doing…whatever it was she did at night, while Helena and Lucius retired to the drawing room, Helena with her new book and Lucius with a brandy, the pretentious git.

She was doing her best ignoring his presence altogether when he spoke again. "Father's decided to give Narcissa and I the east wing, once we're married. It is a generous gift."

Helena said nothing. _Bully for you._

He sighed. "Helena."

Aware he was now looking at her waiting for an answer, she closed the book, seeing no way not to talk to him apart from leaving the room. She stood, and walked over to the doorway, stopped by his hand on her wrist.

"Please."

"Please _what_? I thought I made it clear that as far as I'm concerned-"

"-you want nothing more to do with this family, yes," he finished, irritably. "I had hoped you might have reconsidered by now."

"Then your hopes are dashed. I thought you were chatting shit before; I still think you are. End of discussion."

"Father _will _disown you."

"Then let him. I'm going to be a healer, Lucius—I did well in my exams, I'll do well in my NEWTs in summer and then I'll be out of this house. Father can cut me off all he likes."

"And will you feel that way when you have children of your own? When _they _are struggling to forge a name and career for themselves because _you _have cut them off from the wealth and privilege of the Malfoy name?"

She shrugged him off, but still he wouldn't let her leave. "And if you don't care about that, at least think of the- the- _pollution_ of contaminating your blood! You would be the only broken link in a chain that stretches back centuries—pure and clean! Would you risk the heritage and history which flows through your veins just to spite your parents, me?"

Helena threw her book across the room, finally losing her temper. "How long do you imagine that's going to last anyway?" she demanded. "How many purebloods are there? Or are you going to carry on interbreeding until every wizard in Slytherin has webbed feet? You are so _blinkered_! How many new magics would you throw away because they're invented by muggleborns? How many people would you persecute just for the idea of purity?"

"The life of a muggleborn is nothing compared to the life of a pureblood!"

Without her wand in her hand, Helena did the only thing she could to express her repugnance. She hit her brother, as hard as she could, across his pale, pointed face. Lucius balled and raised his fist, but didn't get a chance to hit her before the drawing room door opened to admit their father. He looked very angry, but his voice was perfectly steady.

"Lucius, if I see you raise a hand to your sister—or any woman—ever again, I will remove the offending appendage. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father."

"Helena, go up to your room."

"Father-"

"Please, go now."

Gaping, Helena did as she was bid, and left the room, closing the door to behind her. She didn't leave, though, instead watching her father and brother through the crack in the door. "She will _not _listen to reason," Lucius ground out.

Abraxus shook his head. "Lucius…sit down. It's time we talk about your sister."

He lifted his wand and pointed it toward the door; it shut with a sharp snap. He must have put an impurtable charm on it too; she could hear no more. Helena slumped against it in frustration, burning with curiosity. _It's time we talk about your sister?_ What did _that _mean? In all her memory, Father had never once uttered the word 'please' to her. And to apparently take her side in an argument over Lucius'? That was…suspicious. The only word for it. It was suspicious. Add that to what Burke had said in the shop that afternoon…

There had been a fancy growing in her mind for a while now, a voice she hadn't wanted to listen to before now. But now it actually seemed like a better alternative than what she had here.

The idea suggested that she wasn't who she thought she was. That she hadn't been born a Malfoy. It made sense—she wasn't in Slytherin, the first in three hundred and fifty seven years not to be. She did not share the blonde hair and grey eyes of her parents and brother. She did not feel any sympathy for their ridiculous notions of purebloodedness. She loathed the idea of Voldemort and his followers. Her birth certificate had been conveniently destroyed in a fire when she was a little girl. And she was not treated as Lucius was. She was too different in personality to be a favourite, that didn't bother her. What bothered her was that her parents didn't like it when she got angry. They weren't as harsh on her as they could have been—she wasn't liked, but she wasn't hated either. To everyone else in the world, she was regarded as a blood-traitor. Not in Malfoy Manor. Here she was just…an oddity. Like finding plastic chairs in the dining hall. She did not belong.

And then there had been the encounter in Borgin and Burkes this afternoon. She was separated enough from the situation now to know what had panicked her so much. It was that surprise on his face when she'd given her name. He had obviously expected something different—but what?

She spent a sleepless night that night, writing out all her reasons for thinking she was someone else. Once that was done, she sat back and told herself how utterly stupid she was being. Of course she was a Malfoy. Lucius was six years older than she, and he would remember that she wasn't his sister if a baby had suddenly appeared in the house, even if Abraxus and Veronique were pretending. Unless they'd used a memory- _Oh for God's sake, Helena! _she screamed at herself. It was one thing to know she didn't fit in, but now she was imagining conspiracies and mysteries where there just _were _none.

But on the other hand… She thought hard about what the next step might be. If she was adopted, then who were her real parents? How could she go about finding them? Well, the Ministry was the best place to start. The Records Office for Births, Marriages and Deaths. But when? She wouldn't be allowed to just pop down to the Ministry of Magic. Sighing, Helena put down her quill and rubbed her eyes, looking out at the grey tinge of dawn outside. Either way, it was probably the only way to set her mind at rest. If she could not find any sign that she _had _been adopted, then she'd put the idea aside as something ridiculous, accept that she was born from no better stock than the Malfoys, and move on with her life.

Decision made, she shut the curtains with a sweep of her wand and extinguished the candle, retiring to bed. She would go to the Ministery and do some digging. Just as soon as she had a chance. But sleep didn't give her a chance. Nor did the day after, or the day after that. They might not celebrate Christmas in the manor, but everyone else did. Abraxus couldn't very well go into work if there was no one _in _work to obey his orders. Christmas Day brought more presents from her friends; she got to feel a little smug that day, because she was celebrating when no one else was. It would have been nice to have Christmas Dinner though. A fat roast goose and figgy pudding…

On the twenty seventh, her father was free to return to work, but it was clear, when Helena tried, that he wasn't going to allow her to simply accompany him to work without some uncomfortable questions. She decided she'd have to pave her own way. After the light had gone out of her father's study that night, she snuck inside and looked through the papers he'd laid out for the morning after. There were matters of state here, things which made her twist her mouth in anger. The one which really pissed her off though was a motion to be set before the school governors—suggesting that only a limited number of muggleborns be accepted into Hogwarts in any one year. The proposed figure was almost nothing at all. Helena screwed it up and threw it in the still-smouldering fireplace, then went back to sifting through her father's papers. Finally she found a schedule for the day after. He'd get to work and then realise he needed it. Smirking, Helena folded it up and took it back to her room. She locked it into a draw, in case he noticed its absence before he left for work and tried _accio_.

She woke early the next morning, breakfasting with her parents before her father and brother left for work. Helena began clock-watching—and at nine thirty, she 'happened' to wander into the kitchen, just in time to see Abraxus' head sitting in the fire, spitting orders at Dobby.

"Dobby is quite sure Dobby did not move master's papers, sir-"

"Don't lie to me, elf, you must have done! I would not have forgotten it otherwise. Now, it's on my desk, in my study. I require it immediately."

"I can bring it to you, Father," Helena suggested.

"I don't care who brings it, as long as _someone _does!" Abraxus thundered, withdrawing his head and turning the flames back orange.

Helena sprinted up the stairs, grabbing the schedule she'd taken along with a bag with some ink and parchment, and apparating to the Ministry. She got a lift down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and headed toward the Wizengamot Administration Services where her father would be. As she moved through the heavy oak doors, she collided with an auror coming the other way. When a heavy metal foot landed on hers, she couldn't hold back a cry of pain.

The auror in question—easily identifiable as the most fearsome of them all, was Alastor Moody. Reflexively, he grabbed her elbow, scrutinising her closely. "And where might you be running off to, missy?"

Helena showed him the paper in her hand. "My father forgot some of his papers this morning."

"Your father?" Moody barked.

Helena was beginning to see why people were afraid of him. Those dark eyes hadn't blinked once yet. "Ab-Abraxus Malfoy," she stammered out. "He works-"

"I know where he works. And don't think I don't know _who _he works for either."

The implication was not lost, and Helena pulled her arm from his grasp. "Well his boss isn't _my _boss, if that's what you mean. Can I get on now?"

Unexpectedly, a smirk curled Moody's mouth. "Aye, I daresay you can."

With that, he stumped off. Helena shook her head and continued to her father's office, knocking once she arrived. The door swung open without a sound. "Ah, here you are at last." He flicked his wand and the paper in Helena's hand soared out of her hand. "Thank you, Helena, you may go."

She nodded. "I'll see you at home later, Father."

He waved his hand dismissively, and free now, Helena made her way to the Records Office. The receptionist turned out to be a grey woman, and not like the one who mourned around the corridors of Hogwarts. No, this one was alive—she thought. Grey clothes, grey hair, grey face, grey personality.

"Good morning."

Silence, only a blank stare through thick glasses.

"I was hoping you could help me. I'm a student at Hogwarts, doing an essay for Muggle Studies. It's a comparative study of how badly muggle and wizard birth-rates were affected by the First World War. I need the records from 1919 to 1925 please."

With a sigh that indicated she'd interrupted something vitally important—and not the crossword of that morning's _Prophet—_the receptionist got up and led her into the stacks behind the desk. The records Helena needed for her 'essay' were quite far back, and rather high up.

"They're up there," the woman pointed.

Helena levitated the 1921 one down at random. "Thank you. I'll be okay from here."

"See that you don't touch anything else," was the snapped reply.

Once she was out of sight and back at her desk, Helena put the book back and snuck into the more recent record shelves. _1947…52…63_…_too far…_ She smiled when she spotted 1960, and pulled the book down as quietly as possible. Flicking through the pages, it was obvious that she needed more time than she was going to be allowed by that mediocre woman. She twisted her mouth, not liking what she was going to have to do but not seeing a way around it. Taking the book, she pulled out her wand again and made her way back to the desk. A mild charm should do—she only needed her to be a little unfocused after all.

She pointed her wand at her back. "_Confundo_," she whispered.

The receptionist shook her head suddenly, looking around as if there was a fly buzzing around her ear. Helena adopted a loud and cheerful tone. "I don't have time to look through it all now, so I'm just going to borrow this one! I'll bring it back once I'm finished!"

The other woman made no objection, so Helena put the book in her bag and headed for the Ministry restaurant. It wasn't much, just a small coffee shop for the staff members and visitors to spend a quiet moment. Apparently the Bureau of Magic in America had a gift shop. That idea, thankfully, so far had not made it over the Atlantic. This early in the morning, it was almost deserted. One waitress, who brought her a cappuccino, and then disappeared out the back. Alone now, Helena opened the book and got out the ink and parchment she'd brought with her.

She'd only just got started when-

"Hellfire?"

She looked up, startled. "Sirius! Wh- Where did you come from?"

"Nowhere special," he answered, leaning against the doorway. Damn her, but she'd forgotten how bloody good he looked in that leather jacket. And the t-shirt underneath it was a good deal tighter than any t-shirt had a right to be.

She ignored the flush of arousal which was rising through her, and only raised an eyebrow. "Why are you in the Ministry?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"It's not anything illegal is it?"

"No," he answered lightly, sitting opposite her. "Just a surprise."

Helena groaned. "Padfoot, your surprises are never good ones."

"This one will be, I promise. What are you doing here anyway?"

She bit her lip, wondering how much to tell him. If anyone was going to understand… "I'm- Don't laugh, alright? But I'm trying to trace my birth parents."

He didn't laugh; instead his eyebrows shot up. "Birth parents? You're adopted?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Recently it's been the the only idea that…"

"Makes sense?" he finished.

"Yup." She sighed and let the parchment roll shut. "Am I crazy? I mean, have I literally gone insane from overexposure to pureblood…ness?"

Sirius regarded her very seriously for a few moments. "Yes," he finally said. "You are completely and certifiably insane."

She laughed. "Thank you. That makes me feel a _whole_ lot better. Arse."

"Bitch."

"Prick," she smiled fondly. "So am I being paranoid then?"

Sirius shifted forward in his seat. "Well, look at it logically. You don't look like a Malfoy. You don't talk like a Malfoy, and you don't think like one."

"And if I had a drop of Malfoy blood in me I'd be in Slytherin," she said.

"Not necessarily. Look at me."

"That's true. No chance you're not really a Black?"

"Unfortunately no. Blood-traitor all the way, that's me."

She grinned affectionately at him. "Wouldn't have you any other way."

He grinned and held her gaze for a little too long. Making girls blush was still a favourite pastime, no matter who the girl. Helena did not colour at all though, and just grinned like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Disconcertingly feeling heat rise to his own cheeks, Sirius gestured to the pile of books and parchment in front of her. "So aside from the fact you don't fit in, why do you think you're not by birth a Malfoy?"

"I just…feel it. I'm not meant to be where I am. And it's the way Father and Mother treat me."

"Tell me about it. Like they can't stand the ground you walk on, like they want to Imperius it out of you," Sirius said bitterly. "Like you're diseased and it's catching."

Helena shook her head. "No, actually, that's what's got me so convinced I'm not their daughter."

He frowned. "How are they different?"

"Well they're disappointed in almost everything I do, but they've never treated me like your parents have you. It's almost like they're scared of me sometimes. Like they don't know what I'll do when I lose my temper. So yeah… I dunno, Pads, maybe I'm half-vampire or something."

"Nah. Not sexy enough. Half-_troll_ maybe."

"Why am I friends with you?"

"You like to be entertained and I'm always life and soul of the party?"

"More like you're good for a laugh. Anyway, I came to the ministry because there's no way they'd have a muggle-born in their house, so I figure I must be at least half-blood. So I was going through the records to find witches who gave up children for adoption around this time eighteen years ago."

"You're allowed access to info like that?"

She was suddenly avoiding his eyes. Completely delighted, Sirius grinned broadly. "Helena! Have we finally corrupted you?"

"Shut up. It's not strictly illegal, I'm over seventeen!"

"Yeah, but, confundus charms on Ministry staff are _definitely_ illegal."

"Would that stop you?" she asked quietly.

He reached across and squeezed her hand briefly. "Not for a second."

The relief and joy in her face lit it up. Smiling back, he moved his chair around to her side of the table. "So, which column am I looking in?"

Helena leaned forward and hugged him. Her hair got in his face; masses of it, soft and dark and smelling like violets. "Thank you," she whispered.

Were those…tears he heard in her voice? When she pulled back a few seconds later though—with another waft of completely distracting fragrance—her eyes were dry. "Um, anytime."

She pushed a large book toward him and opened it, pointing to one of the columns neatly filled with red ink. "Here. This is the year of adoption. You're looking for December 1960."

"Right."

They worked in silence for a while, the only noise the scratching of quills as the name of a corresponding witch was noted down for further research. It did strike Sirius that he'd never _voluntarily_ picked up a quill before, at least not for something as scarily close to _work_ as this. Not even for James, actually. And Helena just gave him a pretty smile and here he was. That just didn't _happen_. Girls did what he wanted in exchange for a smile, not the other way around. Although it had been a very pretty smile. Full of white teeth and rose-tinted lips. _And they're_ _soft too_. He glanced over to see her biting her bottom lip in concentration. That annoyingly full bottom lip. She tasted good as well.

She wrote down another name—one that he recognised from the family tree tapestry at his parents' house. Distant cousin of some kind, someone he'd never met. "Suppose…"

"Suppose?"

"Well I was just thinking—what if we find your birth parents and they're horrible? Just another bunch of pureblood nutters."

She chuckled. "Whoever they are, they can't possibly be worse than the Malfoys."

"True. Speaking of, how did you get permission to come to the ministry?"

"Father told me to come. He forgot some documents he needed for a meeting this morning, so I brought them to him. He doesn't know I haven't returned to the manor."

"He 'forgot' them, huh?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're implying, Padfoot."

"C'mon, Hellfire, you can't have been friends with us lot for years without picking up a few tricks. You pickpocketed him didn't you?"

"No. I just stole them from his desk."

Sirius laughed. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"And yet." She sighed. "You're coming tonight, right?"

"Um…no. What's happening tonight?"

"Lucius' engagement party. They've been engaged for a while of course but the prenuptial agreement was signed a few days ago. Everyone who's _anyone _will of course be there. Please come?"

"Without an invite? The gates wouldn't even let me through. No blood-traitors allowed."

"Please, Padfoot, what else am I if not a blood-traitor?"

He gestured to the books in front of them. "You could be a mudblood and get excluded that way."

"Well for now I'm a pureblood, and I _cannot _face Bellatrix by myself. Merlin's beard, that girl gets more unbearable with each term. You know she's already talking about joining You-Know-Who once this year's over? Before then, if she can help it. Thinks he's the saviour of Wizard-kind. Every time she opens her mouth, the _garbage _that comes out is just disgusting."

"Her and a hundred others. But they'll get what's coming to them, Hellfire. They won't win."

She smiled. "You're so sure of that, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Can't let the bastards get us down. Just remember that tonight."

Helena was still repeating those words to herself that evening, in front of the mirror applying some makeup. The robes her mother had chosen for her were hanging on the back of the door, waiting for her to put them on. Helena felt annoyance creeping up already as she looked at them. Why did she have to wear green, or silver or black all the time? She _liked _red and gold, and she liked purple and blue and every other colour there was. But it would be petty just to dye the silk magically because she knew it would piss her parents off.

She was feeling annoyingly rebellious this evening—something about seeing Sirius that afternoon. He always did make her want to act out against anything and everything. _And he isn't even here to see the chaos…_

* * *

**_A/N: Review please!_**


	9. Chapter Nine

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! **

**Chapter Nine**

Helena went downstairs after she'd dressed in the green dress robes, long black gloves on her arms, hair swept upward in a somewhat elegant style. It felt like it needed more polishing, but it would have to do. She needed a drink before she was ready to face the endless relations in the ballroom. To that end, she went down the back staircase first, and into the kitchen that way. Dobby was bent over a tray of canapés when she entered.

He didn't hear Helena enter, but when he turned around they both jumped. His pointed face was covered with bruises, with his right eye almost swollen shut, cuts and bruises around it. When he walked, it was with a heavy limp. Helena needed a moment or two before she could take her hands from her mouth. In the meantime, elf and witch just stared at each other.

"_Dobby…_what happened?" she demanded breathlessly.

"M-master was v-very angry after his papers were left here, miss-"

Guilt flooded her. "Oh no. Father- He beat you? He beat you because I…"

Quickly, she knelt down and grabbed a napkin, then dabbed gently at the cut on his eye, which had begun bleeding again. It hadn't occurred to her Abraxus might react like that, but if he blamed Dobby—and damn her, she _knew _he had!—then this was her fault. But once she was on her way to the Ministry she hadn't thought about Dobby for one more second. Had considered him irrelevant. _I'm no better than them_, she thought bleakly. _He's still just a servant to me_.

"I'm so sorry, Dobby," she murmured again, shaking her head.

He reached up and took her hand, stopping the motion. His green eyes were huge. "Dobby must get on, miss."

"But-"

"Master will get angry again if Dobby doesn't, miss."

Helena swallowed, but nodded and dropped the napkin. Dobby somehow managed to tidy it away without her seeing him do it. The kitchen door swung open, and her mother's sharp reprimand cut through the self-disgust. "Helena! What in the name of _Morgana _are you doing on the floor? Get up, at once!"

She did so, brushing dust from the front of her robes and allowing Veronique to usher her out of the kitchen and into the ballroom. Floating silver plates hovered at the edges, each bearing several champagne flutes. Helena took one and drained it, then took another to sip more slowly. A firm grip on her elbow manouevred her away from the alcohol. "Greet your sister," her father snarled lowly in her ear.

"She is _not _my sister."

"She will be," Abraxus retorted. "The Blacks are an ancient family almost as pure as ours—Narcissa is a good match for your brother. _You_ might also consider-"

"Lucius has already spoken to me about Sirius, Father," Helena said sweetly. "Would you like me to give you the same answer I gave him?"

He said nothing, only propelled her to where Narcissa and her groom-to-be were standing. She didn't bother putting a smile on her face. They could all go to hell. Narcissa, on the other hand, did plaster something resembling a smile onto her too-pale face. "Helena, how lovely to see you."

Helena offered her cheek; received a metallic kiss. "Congratulations," she said coldly once Narcissa had withdrawn. "Have the two of you set a date yet?"

"Early in February I think, didn't you say, dearest?"

Lucius, stood next to his fiancée, nodded. "I think so, yes."

"I won't keep you," Helena said coldly, moving away and finishing her champagne before reaching for another.

She really wished she'd been able to persuade Sirius to come tonight. At the very least she'd have someone to talk to. At the best she'd have someone to humiliate her family with. Despite it being December, there were so many people in the ballroom that it was very hot inside; as she'd told Padfoot, _everyone _who was anyone was there. The French doors at the end were open; Helena made her way toward there now. However, there was already a figure out there by the frozen fountain; Bellatrix Black, Narcissa's older—though not oldest—sister. At the sight of her, Helena did a u-turn.

"Eurgh! How dare you, you clumsy animal!"

"Dobby is terribly sorry, Miss, Dobby is all thumbs-"

Helena's head snapped around at Dobby's plaintive tone. It was obvious what had happened: with a sprained ankle he had tripped and accidentally upended a drink onto Bellatrix's skirt. Her cousin had not reacted kindly.

And was now drawing her wand. "You will pay for that, wretch!"

Helena wasn't aware of moving, but the next thing she knew, the tip of her wand was digging into Bella's ribs. "Don't you _dare _touch him," she snarled.

The Slytherin witch laughed. "You're defending a _house-elf_? And here I thought you could sink no lower!" She sobered. "Don't be ridiculous, cousin—creatures like this are not worth protecting. Slaves, that's all."

"Do it," Helena said, "and I'll curse you so badly you'll never be able to walk straight again."

Bella scoffed, pointed her wand back at Dobby and opened her mouth. Helena got there first. "_Conjunctiva_!"

Bella dropped her wand with a cry of pain, clutching at her eyes. Helena gave her an almighty shove; she stumbled forward three paces and fell face-first into the frozen fountain. Turning to Dobby, Helena saw quite clearly how badly hurt he was. He also seemed completely stunned.

"You- You defended…Dobby, Miss."

"Yeah. Should've done it a long time ago. Sorry about that." She pulled off one of her long gloves and held it out to him. "There you go. Clothes."

Dobby just goggled at her.

"I'm leaving tonight, Dobby," she explained. "I'm going back to Hogwarts, and if you stay here… Well, you know what will probably happen to you. So please, take the glove."

He was crying now, water streaming from his green eyes. But he still shook his head. "Thank you, miss. But it is Master who must present Dobby with clothes. You is not Master."

Helena felt her eyes burning, but she nodded in understanding. "Can you walk? You need the rest of the night off, if not tomorrow as well."

"But Dobby must-"

"Dobby must _rest_," she smiled. "Now come on."

Without waiting for him to reply, she picked him up and carried him through the house—avoiding the ballroom—to the kitchen. She saw him settled into the nest of rags that qualified as bed (though it required orders to make him stay there) before going back to face the music. She didn't quite get there.

As she came out of the kitchen, her father's voice arrested her. "Helena! I have no idea what in the name of Merlin you think you are doing—but you will apologise to Bellatrix immediately! How _dare _you humiliate this family like that, in front of _all _of society and on the eve of your brother's engagement!"

"How dare _you_ show a complete lack of compassion to a defenceless creature like Dobby!" she spat back. "If you hadn't beaten him so viciously yesterday—for _no_ reason at all—then he wouldn't have spilled anything! It's inhuman!"

"He is _not _human!" thundered Abraxus. "That _filth_ lower than _mudbloods_!"

A startling revelation suddenly blossomed in Helena's mind. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be anything _connected _to here, or the slime who lived here. So she wasn't going to be. "Fine," she said calmly, pulling out her wand again. "Then I'm leaving."

Abraxus didn't back down, exactly. But he didn't, as she was half-expecting, but a full body-bind curse on her, or _levicorpus _her up the stairs and lock her in her room. "You can't. I forbid it."

"I've been seventeen for over a year now, Father, you don't have the right to stop me."

"You leave and you'll be completely cut off," he threatened. "I'll never give you so much as a single knut for the rest of your life."

"Fine by me. Now get out of my way."

He still didn't; when his hand twitched toward his wand, youth beat age. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Father was still there, unable to move but glaring at her fifteen minutes later, when she came back down the stairs levitating her trunk in front of her. Moving into the kitchen, she manouevred herself and the trunk into the huge fireplace, then reached into the floopowder pot for a handful of the glittering stuff.

Then she waved cheerily. "Goodbye, Father. Hogwarts!"

* * *

"No, no, no, you're not listening."

"I'm listening, you're just not making sense!" Sirius argued. "The Harpies have _no _decent Beaters, and alright their Chasers are okay, but that's all you can say about them—and as for Burnwell-!"

"Okay, so they _are _in need of a competent Seeker, but I'm telling you, that is the team to watch for the future. They're improving with almost every match, and I think with the new management it won't be long before their up a league. I give them three years before they win the championship," James declared. "Maybe a few more."

"Rubbish. Moony, back me up here, would you?"

Remus narrowed his eyes in thought. "I think if they're not the Cannons, I'm not interested."

Both James and Sirius rolled their eyes in disgust and carried on debating the merits of the Holyhead Harpies as they moved up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. It was only the second of January, and technically the school holidays weren't finished yet, but there was a full moon tomorrow. And while Remus managed his condition at home during the summer, it no longer felt right to any of them. And with the rest of the house not returning for another week, the Marauders had the run of the whole tower. The whole castle.

So it was with a sinking heart that James stepped through the portrait hole and saw someone else already in the common room. She was draped on the sofa in front of the fire, head buried in a book with her feet hanging over the arm.

"I know those legs," Sirius said from behind him.

She looked up. Seeing her face, James grinned. "Helena! Didn't think you'd be back yet."

She closed the book and stood. "I left."

"Well, yeah. Have you been here since this morning?"

She shook her head. "Since the twenty-eighth. I _left_."

Sirius took another look at her, his eyes racing over her face. "You- You _left_?"

"Yes."

"Ha ha! Yes! _Yes_!" Startling everybody, he surged forward and hugged her tightly, picking her up and twirling her around a couple of times before putting her down again and kissing her. "Thank fuck for that!"

Blushing furiously, Helena scratched the back of her neck. "That's not what my father said." She sat down on the sofa. "I just- I couldn't handle it anymore. So yeah, I cursed Bellatrix and then put a body-bind on Father and Heaven forbid _defended _Dobby and finally ran away from home—all in one evening."

James put an arm around her shoulder. "We're proud of you."

"Good, because I blame Padfoot. It's entirely your fault, you know."

Sirius just grinned and looked incredibly pleased with himself. Only Peter seemed to be thinking clearly. "But…what will you do now? I mean, without your family's money and you don't have a house or any way of supporting yourself-"

"Way to break the mood, Pete."

"I didn't mean-"

"Well I don't have to leave the castle until June now, after NEWTs—as soon as the first month's salary comes in from St Mungo's I can afford rent somewhere and I'll be fine."

Peter still didn't look convinced. "But you don't think you might be being…a bit proud?"

Helena's expression closed. "No," she said flatly. "I think it's the most sensible thing I've ever done."

Sirius nodded firmly. "It is."

She gave him a warming smile. "Besides, by that time I'll have done my NEWTs—how hard can living independently be?"

Peter didn't look convinced, but neither did he argue the point anymore. James was looking around the common room. "Anyone else come back early, Helena?"

She smiled. "No, Lily isn't here, James. We've been writing though, I think she should be back within the next couple of days. Why are you lot back here so soon anyway?"

"Got bored," was the simple reply.

She rolled her eyes. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

James' disappointment did not last all that long—although Lily didn't make a reappearance until the end of the Christmas holidays, that wasn't all that far away. And she actually smiled at him when she came into Gryffindor Tower. Admittedly, she headed straight for Helena and her other friends to talk to them first, but progress was _progress_.

He decided to throw caution to the wind and approach her the next day. Possibly too soon, but as long as he didn't flirt too much…

Luck was with him; they went down to breakfast at the same time, and he caught up to her in the corridor. "Hi, Lily."

She smiled. "Morning, Pot- James."

First names! They were definitely on a first name basis! Doing a mental dance, James returned her smile. "Good Christmas?"

"It was alright. My sister has a new boyfriend she wanted to introduce. Not sure why, really, since Petunia likes to pretend I don't exist… I think my parents talked her into it. Yours?"

"Okay. Bit quiet. Can't believe Helena's news."

"I know! I'm so proud of her."

James grinned. "You and me both."

"So how did you do in your NEWT mocks?"

"Not bad. Should be enough to get me a place in the Auror Office for training—as long as my actual NEWTs match. Still three years after that till I get to call myself an auror though."

"Count yourself lucky," Lily replied. "It's five years as a healer."

"Bet you do it in four."

She said nothing, but he detected a slight flush around her cheeks that he didn't _think _had anything to do with anger. They sat down at breakfast together, and James poured tea for both of them. Lily sipped with a grateful sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without Tetly."

"It's funny, isn't it? How with all the differences between the wizarding world and the muggle world, tea is the one common factor," James commented.

"I suppose. Why, are you suggesting we use it to build bridges?"

He smiled, but shook his head. "Maybe not."

They ate quietly together for a while before being joined by Helena and the rest of the Marauders. Helena shot a quick grin at James, who tried not to grin back while Lily was watching. Luckily, Sirius broke the brunette's attention by pulling a cylindrical package from his robes and holding it out to her.

She took it with a raised eyebrow. "What's this?"

"Your birthday present."

"Two weeks after my birthday?"

"I told you it would take me a while to find. Open it."

It was wrapped in leather, bound with a silver clasp shaped like a darting fish. Helena opened it and unrolled the bundle. It was a map, that much was immediately obvious. James shared a quizzical look with Lily—it wasn't exactly impressive after all—but Helena's eyes were still flying over the parchment, and Padfoot was grinning very smugly, his eyes on her face.

James leaned forward, getting a better look. It looked like a plan of a city; heptagonal, walls within walls. On the edges of the map were moving waves. It was an island. Helena touched the centre of the map, on it a structure of some kind. The image on the parchment shimmered, and then suddenly zoomed in where she'd touched it. The map now showed the interior of the building.

"The palace…" Helena whispered.

"Palace? Palace of what?"

"And then the market, here," she said, drawing her fingers together from the edges of the map and then scrolling across. "Sirius, this is…is…"

"I know," he grinned.

She squeezed his hand, but then went back to marvelling at the map. James shook his head. "I still don't get it. What's the map of?"

"Atlantis."

"You what?"

"It's a map of Atlantis. Genuine, original, and _very _rare," Sirius told him, somehow grinning even more broadly.

"It's more than that," Helena said excitedly. "God, Padfoot, don't tell me where you nicked this from, it must have been Gringotts!"

"Not exactly."

"Whatever—you don't know, do you? This isn't just a map of Atlantis, this is a _blueprint_. You could recreate the entire city from this! I mean, look—living quarters, library, the _potteries _for God's sake! Sirius, this is- It's amazing," she said, beaming at him.

He shrugged in a way that would have been casual except for the red colour appearing on his cheeks.

"You're not going to though, are you?" Lily asked.

"What, recreate Atlantis? No, I don't think so. Fell for a reason didn't it?"

"That, and you'd _definitely _need your dad's money to finance it, Hellfire."

"That too." She sighed. "Ah well. It's a project for my retirement isn't it? Thank you, Sirius."

"Hey, I just thought it was a pretty map," he replied—though he didn't meet her eyes and the colour hadn't faded from his face, James noted.

Later, when they were headed to Potions, he pulled his best mate aside. "Tell me you didn't do anything too illegal to get that."

Sirius paused. "Define 'too illegal'."

James sighed. "Where'd you get it?"

"Ministry. Ran into Helena there actually while she was researching potential parents."

James raised an eyebrow. "Potential parents?"

"Well, look at it logically—there's a good chance that she's right. Has she ever struck you as a Malfoy?"

"Well what else _can _she be?"

"That was what she was trying to find out. We worked for a fair few hours at it, but we didn't find much of use. No witches who could be her mother in 1960."

"Hang on, you _worked _during the holidays? Are you sick, mate, or just in love?"

"Ha ha," Sirius said sarcastically. "Moving on—you making any headway with Evans yet?"

"Not sure. Girls are hard."

Sirius made a sympathetic noise in agreement. He stumbled slightly on the staircase, proving that even if your feet had been climbing the same steps every day for seven years, they could still falter. Reflex made him grab with railing, and James saw a flash of discomfort cross his face.

"Your shoulder?"

"Yeah. Still hasn't stopped aching. I know he can't help it."

The full moon had been five days ago now, but they'd had yet another close call, wandered too close to Hogsmeade and the drunks leaving the Hog's Head at closing time. Moony had caught the scent of human, and instinct had taken over. Between them, James and Sirius had managed to wrestle him away from the village and back into the forest. It had resulted in Padfoot being thrown into a tree, taking the full force of the impact on his right shoulder. It still obviously hurt to move it too quickly. James was relieved that they didn't have another Quidditch match until mid-February. Couldn't use a beater who couldn't beat.

* * *

"Y'know what's good?" Helena asked, slightly dreamily when Lily sat down at breakfast.

"What?"

"Morning sex."

"Helena, did I really have to know that?" Lily demanded, scowling as she poured some coffee.

"Yes, you really did. Mainly because you really need some."

"Helena."

"Actually, any sex would be good in your case, Lily."

"Helena?"

She looked to where Lily was pointed. Soaring toward them with the rest of the morning owls was the enormous form of Seraph, the family eagle owl. "Oh fuck, here we go."

She held out a forearm; Seraph landed on it as gently as she could, then nibbled Helena's ear affectionately. No longer hungry, Helena pushed the rest of her bacon sandwich toward the owl and took the envelope. It was addressed in emerald green ink, and sealed with the family crest.

Expecting a long, angry and commanding letter demanding she issue a heartfelt apology and move back into the manor immediately, Helena opened the envelope. What she found was not written in her father's hand. At the top of the letter head parchment was the crest of Dragonbeard-Griswald & Sons. Frowning now Helena read further. The more she read, the more astonished she became.

"What the-?"

"What's wrong?" Lily asked.

"It- It's a contract of emancipation," Helena said. "From the family solicitors. My father's making me financially independent—'The benefactor will confer upon the beneficiary an annual pension of twenty _thousand _galleons for the remaining years of his life, the contract to be terminated by a payment of- of-'"

Her voice failed; seeing Helena unable to speak, Lily took the letter from her and read on. "'The contract to be terminated by a payment of five _million_ galleons on the death of the benefactor'! Bloody hell, Helena! And it's signed as well!"

She unfolded the rest of the contract to the bottom; Helena looked, and sure enough, the signature of Abraxus Malfoy was there, fluid and flourished. Just underneath that was a dotted line waiting for her signature. "I don't understand."

"Do my ears deceive me?" a faux-shocked male voice asked. "Was that _Helena Malfoy _admitting she doesn't understand everything?"

Helena was too shocked to even respond to James' teasing, she was too busy staring at the parchment in her hands. "What's up with you?" Sirius asked, sitting across from the two girls.

Wordlessly, Helena pushed the contract at him. She watched his face as he read; his jaw dropped a little further with each line. "Merlin's _beard_. What- What did you do to get this, Hellfire?"

She shook her head silently.

"Bloody hell! I mean, I knew the Malfoys were rich but I didn't know they were _this _rich if five million galleons is a drop in the ocean!" James exclaimed, having read it over Sirius' shoulder.

"It's not," she said through numb lips. "That's like…a quarter of _everything_. Why would he- Lucius is going to _kill_ him!"

"It has to mean you're not a Malfoy," Sirius said seriously. "This is a pay-off, there's nothing else it can be."

"But then who am I? If my parents—or the memory of them, or whatever—can make my father part with this much money, then who the fuck are they?"

"Politician?" James suggested. "Maybe your mother's Minister for Magic."

"Father _owns_ the ministry," she said. "There'd be no reason for him to scared of the minister."

"Powerful then," Lily suggested. The four of them leaned in, heads together. "Maybe you're related to Dumbledore. Or someone like- Well, like Flamel or-"

"Who?" the three of them asked.

"The maker of the Philospher's Stone. He's more than five hundred years old. Anyway, someone like him."

Helena and James scoffed, but Sirius looked serious, glancing up at the teacher's table. "It's a possibility."

"Oh please, Padfoot, I am _not _Dumbledore's long-lost niece or something."

"But Lily's idea is a good one," he persisted. "Someone powerful makes perfect sense. Malfoy's paid you off because he's afraid of what you or Mummy and Daddy will do."

Helena wrinkled her nose and shook her head, feeling an aversion to the idea she didn't understand. It _did _make sense, but she didn't want it to be true, and she didn't know why. But then what else could make Father want to pacify her? All she wanted was to be free of the family, money hadn't come into her head for one moment. But clearly it had his.

"I don't understand," she said again. "_Why_?"

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	10. Chapter Ten

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you so, so much to my beta, Classic Cowboy :) **

**Chapter Ten**

The first thing Helena did was to write to Dragonbeard-Griswald & Sons, to verify that what she'd had delivered wasn't some kind of hoax. They wrote back politely confirming that it wasn't—and that the first payment of twenty thousand galleons had already been wired to her Grigotts vault. It was followed by an owl from the bank with her statement. Helena couldn't stop staring at it. What should she do? There seemed endless possibilities, but at the same time she would be attending Hogwarts until the end of June.

Added to that, she had no idea how much twenty thousand galleons would buy her. It was certainly not enough for some ancestral pile like Mafoy Manor, or probably not even a Georgian townhouse somewhere. But hopefully somewhere small-ish. A flat in London somewhere. Which could mean having to go to a muggle estate agents, and finding a flat through one of them. She would have to take Lily with her in that case, otherwise she and the estate agent would be speaking utterly different languages. Coming out of Charms on the way down to the greenhouses one afternoon, Helena pulled a galleon out of her pocket and glanced at it.

"Lily, what's the conversion rate at the moment?" she asked thoughtfully.

"You mean how many quid to a galleon?"

"Yeah."

"Um...about three, I suppose. If you had twenty galleons you'd have about sixty pound."

"Ah okay."

"Why?"

"Just wondering. I'm not sure how much I have to spend on a place of my own."

"Oh I see. When are you going to have time to do that?"

"Not sure. There isn't another holiday now until summer—and that's when I'm being turfed out completely. Do you think Dumbledore might let me stay in the castle a few weeks longer over the summer while I look for somewhere?"

"Dunno," Lily said doubtfully. "I mean, I don't think the teachers stay at the castle over the summer. Pretty sure McGonagall has her own place somewhere that she goes to once the students have left."

"What, so _no one's _in the castle over summer? That seems a little reckless."

Lily shrugged. "There're always the ghosts aren't there? And I'm sure the portraits can get to Dumbledore if they need to. Famous wizards, they're going to have other paintings around Britain."

"True." Helena sighed, then bit her lip. "Well there are plenty of weekends between now and June, but…can I just go to London? It's not exactly Hogsmeade."

"Talk to McGongall. She's head of house, she can give you permission for a weekend in London."

Helena snorted. "Yeah, McGonagall letting me go off swanning around London, that'll happen."

"You never know. If you approach it in the right way she might say yes. All it needs is for you to explain yourself properly. With an academic angle if you can wedge it in."

With that in mind, Helena spent most of Herbology formulating her 'pitch' to McGonagall, working out what she was going to say. There seemed no way she could get an 'academic angle' in there, so she decided to throw herself on the Transfiguration mistress's compassion. It was there, though she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen it emerge, in seven years of studying at Hogwarts. And really, her request wasn't unreasonable. She _did _need somewhere to live after all, otherwise all the amazing work (she was going to call it that) McGonagall and the other teachers had put into her future was going to waste.

When she was finally feeling prepared, she approached McGonagall after Transfiguration the next day. "Professor, may I have a word?"

McGonagall looked up sharply, studying her keenly in a way that made her even more nervous. "Of course. Come up to my office and we'll have a cup of tea," she added, gesturing for Helena to leave the classroom.

"Um, okay."

They walked briskly—something which she had expected, thankfully—to McGonagall's office on the fourth floor of the castle. She indicated Helena to a hard-backed chair on the opposite side of the desk. Before saying anything, she served tea and pushed a tin of biscuits at Helena. She picked one up like she was unsure what it was.

"You- You like ginger newts," she said, idiotically.

"I have a feeling I know what this is about," the older witch said.

"You do."

"Yes. The letter from home you received on Monday."

"Um, yeah, actually. You see, Professor, over the Christmas holidays my family and I had a…falling out. A pretty big one, and it's been coming for a while, and the letter on Monday kind've…solidified that. My father's now paying me an annuity, but past that he—they—want nothing more to do with me." She glanced up at McGonagall's face, which was as impassive and impatient as ever.

"Anyway, what this has to do with _you _is that—well, after term ends in summer I've nowhere to do. This money from my father gives me the opportunity to put a deposit down on somewhere in London, preferably near St Mungo's."

"And you have no time to do that," McGonagall nodded, suddenly looking relieved about something.

"Exactly. I was wondering if it might be possible for me to go down to London for a weekend and find myself a pad."

"I see." McGonagall stopped there, sipping her Earl Grey and tapping her finger gently against the side of the cup. "I would prefer you didn't go alone, Miss Malfoy. You are over seventeen so I can't stop you, but you understand why it may not be safe."

"Of course. So…I can't go, then."

"Well, you may. But you should take a friend with you. I'm sure you can book two rooms at the Leaky Cauldron easily enough for Friday and Saturday nights, and then return here on Sunday evening to resume lessons on Monday morning. I do not expect either of you do be late, is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor. Thank you."

"You may leave Friday evening after class," was the crisp reply, opening the office door for her.

"Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight."

She smiled all the way back up to Gryffindor Tower, wondering how she'd managed to swing that. She'd actually just got _McGonagall_ to give her time away from school during term time, to do something which by rights she should have deemed too frivolous. Lily wasn't going to believe it—time off from essays and exam revision and-

_Ah. That is going to be a problem… _Lily wasn't likely to agree with that. Not when there _were _essays and revision to be done. She wouldn't take time out of that just to go flat-hunting, even if it meant a weekend in London. But if, on the other hand, she substituted Lily for Sirius…then a girlie weekend suddenly became a dirty weekend. And while she liked Lily's company, that was a much more appealing prospect. Plus, she was saving herself some money—this way they only needed one room to sleep in. Not that she was anticipating much sleep going on…

When she got to the common room, she found Sirius and pulled him aside. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Um…Quidditch practice, maybe some homework if I can be bothered-"

"Nope. You're coming to London with me and shagging me for a weekend. Courtesy of McGonagall," she grinned.

"How did you manage that?"

"My natural charm."

He snorted. "Yeah right. Hellfire, between this and the money, I'm beginning to wonder if you're not some kind of master of the dark arts."

She frowned, feeling stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you seem to have the whole castle imperiurised."

She rolled her eyes. "I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you. So are you coming or not?"

"Sure. But why are we going to London? I'm pretty sure McGonagall didn't have 'fucking for two days' on her mind when she gave you permission to go."

"No. Technically we're going to look for somewhere for me to live. She didn't want me going on my own in case the Death Eaters showed up I think. Apparently twenty thousand galleons gives me about sixty thousand _pounds_, so I figured it'd be enough for a down-payment somewhere in London. Though I've no idea what that'll buy me."

"They always have property listings in the back of the _Prophet,_" Sirius suggested. "I'm sure you could make a list and book viewings. Then we can spend Saturday morning seeing them and afterwards-"

Helena pulled him into a searing kiss, pressing her body the length of his. "Leave something to the imagination, Sirius," she whispered when she pulled away briefly, before returning to bite gently at his bottom lip.

"I don't think there's much my imagination hasn't come up with already."

She reached down to rub her fingers where the bulge of his cock was already developing through his trousers. He drew in a sharp breath while her smile widened suggestively. "Well, let's wait and see, shall we?" She kissed him again and sauntered away.

Two days later, Sirius was just resurfacing from the haze of pleasure Helena had just inflicted on him. The girl herself was lying at the opposite end of the bed, stretched across it looking quite at her ease, and very relaxed. "How are we getting down to London?" he asked.

"Floo. I've been in touch with of the property vendors advertising in the back of the _Prophet_, like you suggest, and there're four viewings booked for tomorrow night. Another three on Saturday morning. I think there'll be one I like the look of. The pictures all look fairly impressive. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to. To the houses, I mean. I know McGonagall thinks it could be dangerous but I don't think I'll get into any real trouble."

"No, I'll come. Besides, once I've seen where you're going to be living come summer, I can imagine all the ways we can christen your new home," he added with a wink.

"After we leave school? No exams then, Padfoot—who says you're going to be the one I christen it with eh?"

"Self-confidence."

"Bloody arrogance you mean."

"Potato, patarto."

Helena rolled her eyes and then frowned at the bruise which was now fading across his shoulder. "How'd you get that again?"

"Quidditch."

She nodded, and though her eyebrow rose, she didn't say anything. Helena wasn't stupid, and she certainly knew him well enough to know when he was lying. Equally she knew that if he was lying to _her, _he had a good reason for it. She picked up her wand. "_Accio_ clothes!"

The curtains twitched aside slightly as her school robes flew inside the confines of the four-poster; she pushed back the covers and dressed. "Don't be late, will you? Apparently we're using the fire in Dumbledore's office. I forget what the password will be, but the map will show us that won't it?"

"True."

They packed lightly, or at least Helena did. She didn't think she'd be needing too much in the way of clothing, or at least not clothing that covered more than her boobs and…other parts. By the time Friday's classes were finished, she was waiting in front of the griffon which guarded Dumbledore's office, McGonagall with her. They were both equally annoyed with Sirius, who was late.

"I shouldn't be surprised," Helena sighed. "Sorry about this, Professor."

"Yes, well. I do believe you might have picked a more punctual companion for the weekend," was the reply.

_Yeah…but not one as good at fucking, _Helena thought privately.

After another moment or two, Sirius did turn up, carrying a canvas bag over his shoulder and grinning in the disarming way that made everyone melt. Everyone except the two women waiting for him. "Sorry I'm late. Been waiting long?"

"Too long, Mr. Black, hurry up," McGonagall snapped.

"Sorry, Professor, I was trying to decide which of my books I should take with me-"

Their teacher turned to the griffon and simply said, "Humbug."

"It's not- Oh, I see."

Helena grinned at his expression as a spiral staircase rose up with the griffon at its head. McGonagall stepped onto it while it was still moving, obviously expecting them to do the same. Sirius gestured. "Age before beauty, Hellfire."

She smacked his arm, but did go first. McGonagall was waiting for them at the top, standing beside the fireplace. Helena didn't pay much attention to her at first—Sirius had been in Dumbledore's office before, though never for the right reasons—but she never had. It was a beautiful room; entirely circular and oddly noisy in a quiet, busy sort of way. Helena reached out to touch a silver instrument that was sat on the mantlepiece. When her skin touched it, it emitted a puff of golden steam and then went back to its whirring.

"Heavens, don't touch that!"

She jumped, and looked up at one of the portraits on the wall which had snapped at her. It was of an elderly woman dressed in fifteenth-century clothing. Helena drew her hand away quickly. "Sorry."

"If you're quite finished fiddling around with things that do not belong to you, Miss Malfoy?"

"Sorry, Professor."

"Very well. I expect you back here at seven thirty exactly on Sunday night, is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Alright. Take your floo powder and have a constructive weekend."

* * *

They did so, and in a few seconds were stepping out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius found Helena already greeting the barman like an old friend. "Long time no see, Tom."

The toothless landlord beamed. "It's good to see you, Miss Malfoy. Not with your mother today?"

"No, she's at the manor. Did you get my owl?"

"Of course, of course. My best room is all ready and waiting for you and your…friend."

"Thank you, Tom. I'll just take my bag up-"

"You'll do no such thing, miss, if you'll forgive me. I couldn't allow a lady to carry her own bag."

"Oh, thanks," Sirius smiled, tossing his over to Tom as well, who threw it right back. His face fell. "Right. I'm not a lady, am I?"

Helena laughed and ordered a bottle of firewhiskey for the pair of them when he came back down. When he returned, he sat down and motioned at the barman. "Tom?"

"My mother used to come here and drink. A lot," she elaborated. "More often than not with me with her so she could find her way home. The last time we were here I was about fourteen—she managed to make such a public disgrace of herself that Father forbade her from coming back. Now she does her drinking at home."

"Oh right. Bit early for you to be drinking then."

"Just a bit. Now, however…" She poured the firewhiskey into the shot glasses and clinked hers against his. "To new starts."

They toasted and threw the first one back quickly, locking eyes and daring the other one to cough first. Eventually though the burn was too much and the smoke needed to come out; they both choked at the same time. After that they drank more slowly, chatting freely about anything and everything that didn't involve schoolwork. It probably would have felt more like a date than anything else with another girl, but with Helena being polite or not ogling the other good-looking witches who walked past didn't matter. The worst she did was roll her eyes and call him a man-whore. Which, he had to admit, was a pretty accurate description. The bottle lasted them several hours, with dinner in between. Fish and chips for him, stick ribs for Helena, which she ate without getting all precious about the sauce going everywhere. They followed it up with a huge ice cream sundae which disappointed rather severely.

"Fortescue's tomorrow?"

"Definitely. I forgot how rubbish other ice cream is."

The plates were cleared away and the firewhiskey still hadn't run out, so by the time eleven rolled around and the barman rang the last orders bell, Sirius was feeling pleasantly buzzed. Helena was hiccuping at regular intervals.

"You're drunk."

"I am _not _drunk," she protested, followed by a proud smile. "I'm merely tipshey."

"Merely what?" he laughed.

"Oi, you two gonna be much longer?"

They both looked over to where Tom the barman was leaning on the bar, looking impatient. The rest of the _Cauldron _was suddenly empty. "I wanna close up."

Helena lifted the bottle of Ogden's and swilled it around. From the sounds of it there was still about a quarter left. They hadn't been drinking quickly after all. "Looks like it," she said. "Sorry Tom. But we're staying, why don't you lock up now and we'll lock the inner door on the way up."

He looked at Sirius dubiously—who did his best to look innocent—but finally nodded. "Alright, I trust you. Leave the key in the letter box next to my room, okay, Helena?"

"Got it."

Tom left them to it, though he didn't stop glaring at Sirius. "I must just have a face that people don't trust," he mused.

"You do. It's sort of weasel-like in quality," she answered cheerfully.

"Why pick me to come anyway? What's wrong with Lily?"

"Nothing," Helena shrugged. "I just figured she'd be less receptive to a weekend of hot and heavy sex than you would."

"That, and Prongs would kill you," he grinned.

"True, especially now that he's making progress. That's the other thing—with you and me both out of the castle they have more time to spend with each other."

"Crafty, aren't you?"

She only sighed. "I wish she wasn't being so bloody dense about it though. It's sheer pride, that's all—she's being _deliberately _blind and denying how she really feels, which would be fine, except that she's hurting James while she's doing it. She can be such a stupid cow when she wants to be. And selfish too," she declared, a scathing note clear in her voice.

"Wow you can be a bitch sometimes."

She shrugged. "Does that bother you?"

"No. As long as you're my bitch."

She laughed in an outraged way. "In your _dreams_, Padfoot. Have you not noticed _I'm _in control of this? If anything, you're my bitch."

She stood, and then swayed her hips over to the bar, pouring more whiskey out for herself. He moved silently, getting up and moving without sound—the firewhiskey went smoking across the bar when he grabbed her hands from behind, spreading her arms and pressing himself against her back. Neither of them heeded the sound of the glass shattering as he ran the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck. "You sure about that, Hellfire?"

She ground her pelvis back at him. "Absolutely."

He gripped her hands a little tighter, put them where he wanted them holding onto the side of the bar. "Don't move them." He took his hands away, then slammed them back down when she did move to take them away. A quiet gasp left her lips. "I mean it, Helena," he growled. "_Do not _move."

She didn't reply, but didn't move when his hands left hers again, trailing up her arms and then up her stomach, finally reaching her breasts. Her nipples were hard even through her top. He wasn't particularly gentle when his fingers closed around them, pinching and pulling. Helena shuddered, moaning through slightly parted-lips. "Sirius, this is a pub-"

"Quiet."

He undid the straps on her top, then pulled it down and exposed her breasts properly, massaging them. Helena was now rocking her pelvis rhythmically against his, a movement as unconscious as her heavy breathing. He let go of her boobs, then flipped her skirt up, pulling down her panties. He undid his fly quickly.

Helena turned her head with a slight smile. "You think you're so hot, don't you?"

He moved two fingers into her core, taken aback himself at how ready and wet she was. "You certainly seem to."

He rubbed her clit roughly, causing a pleasured mewl to escape her lips. "Sirius, please-"

Without giving her time to adjust to his size, he thrust into her, hard. Her cry couldn't be stifled, echoing around the empty bar loudly. He set a fast, almost brutal pace, hands on her hips, fingers digging into her skin. She'd probably have bruises later, but for the moment neither of them was worried about that. Sirius certainly didn't—there was no desire to punish her, he'd just gotten lost in the sensation of her. There was none of the contempt born from familiarity, If anything, she somehow seemed tighter than she had the last time they'd been together, hotter and so wet her juices were running down her inner thighs. He'd have to remember this position; she obviously liked it. She was clenching around him every time he pushed into her further, slamming her hips back to meet him thrust for thrust. Her moans were growing louder in volume, higher in pitch the longer they continued. She'd never been a very quiet lover, but neither had she been particularly loud. Now he wouldn't be surprised if the whole inn could hear her. She was holding nothing back, but she hadn't climaxed yet, and it was becoming a struggle to keep his in. He brought one hand up to her left breast, back to the nipple, twisting it in the way that always got her going. It and the plunging of his length was enough; pushed over the edge, Helena let out a long wail of his name, spine arching. Her inner muscles pulsed around him, and with a shuddering groan of his own, Sirius followed her over the brink into utterly black pleasure.

She was still limp and boneless with the afterglow when his reason managed to reassert itself. When he did turn her around, her arms went around his neck, her mouth against his blindly. She kissed him passionately, deeply—and was blushing when she pulled her lips away. She was still relying on him for most of her support though, he noted.

"So… That was…"

"Still think you're in charge?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

She kissed him again. "Shut up."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! All is revealed in this chapter, let me know what you think in a review at the end of the chapter! **

**Chapter Eleven**

"Rise and shine Padfoot, time to get me a house!"

There was nothing quite as unpleasant as being hit in the face with a pillow as you were trying to sleep.

"Come on, it's nine 'o' clock already."

Except maybe the room being flooded with sunlight when your fuck buddy threw open the curtains. Sirius groaned, grabbed the pillow she'd chucked at him and turned over, burying his face into it with a sigh of satisfaction. Now she couldn't-

"Sirius, come _on_!"

Without warning, Helena yanked the duvet off him, exposing his far-too-naked body to the cold February air. "Damn it, woman!" His voice was muffled by the pillow, but she'd got the gist.

The mattress sagged a little on his left as she sat down. "You have to get up; we have a viewing in less than an hour and I already missed the three we had booked yesterday. Other…things got in the way."

He turned over finally with a grin. "They could get in the way again."

"Sirius, for Heaven's sake! _Every _morning?"

"Pretty much." In his defence, the morning erection wasn't about to go down when she was still naked herself, her hair tousled and sleepy-sexy in a way that made him want to pull her back down onto the bed and make it even messier. All that smooth skin and those perfect curves—it really wasn't fair. "Plus, how can I help it? _Look_ at you, Hellfire."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is this where I blush, melt and you get laid again?"

"That's the idea."

"Well tough. I'm still sore from last night."

He grinned. "Really?"

"There's no need to look so happy about it!"

He laughed, and then got out of bed, pulling on his jeans without bothering with underwear. Helena took rather longer to get dressed, and then even longer to deal with her needing-absolutely-nothing-doing-to-it hair. He pointed that out, but apparently the fact that he was male made his opinion completely irrelevant.

"Right, well now we have ten minutes to get all the way across London."

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" she asked. "I saw it advertised in the _Prophet_, and the estate agent is a witch anyway, so we can just apparate in there. It's probably what she expects anyway."

"Oh okay. Hmm…what can we do in ten minutes…?"

Helena gave an exasperated sigh. "Sirius."

"What? It was worth a try."

She rolled her eyes, but grinned anyway. "Come on, Cassanova."

The estate agent was early, and the house was _gorgeous. _The entrance hall alone was spectacular: red oak flooring, polished to an impeccable finish, with a front door painted a deep, shiny purple, brass knocker in the shape of a lion's head. The staircase swept in a gentle upwards to another two stories. The rooms all had high ceilings, and in the first-story living room, floor to ceiling windows. Light flooded the entire house. The garden was narrow, but long, disappearing into mysterious wooded areas and flower beds that Helena immediately wanted to explore. The master bedroom had its own balcony, complete with access to a roof terrace.

Helena turned on the spot, looking over the incredible views of London that it offered, taking it all in with a breathless smile on her face. "I'm in love."

Sirius smiled. "Well, I'm fond of you too, but what about the house?"

"How much?" she asked the estate agent.

"Well, the deposit is five thousand galleons, with the mortgage one thousand galleons a month thereafter. For what you're getting, in the location, it's an extremely reasonable price."

Unlike muggle property ladders, the estate agents had already liaised with the building society to negotiate a mortgage—the witch or wizard could afford it or they couldn't, it was as simple as that.

Helena nodded. "The mortgage seems reasonable. But the deposit seems a little steep."

Aware that she could not really afford to alienate a client with the last name of Malfoy, and also acutely aware of the world of the upper class Helena's recommendation could take her bosses to—and utterly _un_aware that Helena wouldn't be recommending anyone with the equivalent of her name or wealth—the estate agent panicked a little bit. "I'm sure we can negotiate the deposit down. How much would you suggest might be appropriate?"

"Hmm… One thousand?"

"That would be impossible, I'm afraid. Three?"

"Two and a half."

"Done," the witch beamed.

Smiling slightly smugly, Helena shook her hand. "Wonderful. Shall we get the contract signing out of the way now? Where are your offices?"

"Chiswick, Turbot Street. If you'd like to follow me, we can sign straight away and you'll be a home-owner, Miss Malfoy."

The rest of Saturday afternoon and all of Sunday—post signing—was spent in haze of naked skin and almost endless pleasure for both of them, so much so that they almost missed McGonagall's seven p.m. deadline. There was a mad scramble for clothes as well as everything else they'd brought with them, and Helena almost forgot her deeds to the house, which had somehow ended up in the bathroom, along with one of two empty bottles of champagne. The second bottle was on the bedside table (and had not been used for drinking).

"Got everything?"

She nodded, and they headed down to the bar, bid farewell to Tom. He'd warmed up to Sirius over the weekend, mostly because of the amount of money the two of them had spent in his pub. Stepping into the fireplace, it was one minute past seven when they emerged in Dumbledore's office. McGonagall was waiting for them.

"Good evening, Professor," Helena said politely.

"Good evening. Black, stop dawdling in the fireplace, please. I take it your mission was successful?" she added to Helena.

She nodded. "Yes, Professor. I've put a deposit down on a townhouse in Kensington that I can move into once seventh year is over."

"Excellent news."

She escorted them as far as her office, and then they made their way to Gryffindor Tower from there. Moony and Wormtail were sat by the fire, Remus helping Pete with some schoolwork. Prongs was nowhere in sight; neither, he noted, was Lily.

"So how'd it go?" Pete asked as they sat down.

Helena unfurled the deed scroll. "You are now looking at the proud owner of number seventeen Kensington Gardens, West London. Well, I say owner—I've put a deposit down and I'm now paying a mortgage, but same thing right?"

Remus smiled widely. "That's wonderful, Helena."

"It's a shame we have to wait until June before you can all come and see it. I know you'd love it—though I guess you prefer a quieter atmosphere, don't you?"

"Why does everyone always think that?" he chuckled. "I know I don't go a lot but London's so diverting. Takes my mind off other things."

"So are you going to move there eventually? That'd be great, having all of us in the same city!"

"Getting a bit ahead of yourself aren't you, Hellfire? James doesn't want to live in the city anywhere—and if your master plan to get he and Lily together works as perfectly as you expect it to, then she might not either."

"That doesn't mean Lily can't be _persuaded _that she wants to live in London…and then she can persuade James," she replied smoothly.

Sirius frowned. "Sounds less like persuasion and more like manipulation."

"Works with you doesn't it?"

When she turned away, he stopped her. "Yeah, in bed is one thing—in everyday life it's less of a joke."

"So what are you accusing me of?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm telling you to be stop before you start."

"Before I start _what_? Are you imagining that by 'persuasion' I mean I'm going to put Lily under the Imperius curse? For fuck's sake, Sirius, I know my friends have the right to make their own choices! You're completely overreacting!"

"Am I? You're the one talking about just changing people's minds to suit your own desires!"

"So I want my friends close to me—that's a crime now is it?"

"Don't be stupid, it's just the way you go about it, that's all!"

"And apart from _talking _to them, what would you suggest?"

He had no answer for that; Helena turned on her heel and marched up the stairs to her dormitory. Sirius swore, and tried to follow her—but he only got a few steps up before the floor literally gave out from under him. The stone stairs were suddenly a very smooth, entirely slippery slide. Sirius ended up on his arse at the bottom.

"Having trouble, Padfoot?" Helena's voice echoed mockingly down to them.

He swore again. "You can be such a…a…_woman_ sometimes!"

"Yeah? Well you can be such a _guy _sometimes!" she yelled back.

It was followed by the slamming on her door. Sirius kicked the wall and then turned to find the entire common room staring at him. "_What_?"

Most of them went back to minding their own business—one of the few who didn't was the Head Girl. She was standing with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face. "What did you do?"

"Me? Why don't you bloody ask her?"

"I will! But I swear, Black, if she's up there crying her eyes out, there _will _be hell to pay."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Lily," he snarled. "I'm not sure she has tear-ducts!"

Lily ignored him, and only headed up the spiral staircase. She put her foot where the first step would have been, and with a grinding noise, it reappeared. Sirius glared at it for another moment before turning back to Moony. "You don't think she really will be crying, do you?"

* * *

Helena was not crying—simply fuming. She was sat on the edge of her bed, arms crossed and glaring at the bathroom door when Lily entered, her voice overly casual. "Good weekend was it?"

"It was a lovely weekend, thank you. It was only after we got back that he decided to turn into an arse." She turned and offered a weak smile. "I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies…"

"So?" Lily asked expectedly. "I take it you found a house?"

Helena nodded. "Lily, it's beautiful. Three stories, Georgian…you're going to love it."

"I can't wait to see it," the redhead smiled.

"What about your weekend?"

Lily turned away to her own bed so that Helena couldn't see the blush she was sure was going up Lily's face. "It was fine. We went down to Hogsmeade, all the Gryffindors. I forgot my money though, so I couldn't buy anything when we got to Honeyduke's."

"So this would be what?" Helena asked, picking up a paper bag stamped with the Honeyduke's logo from Lily's bedside table.

Her friend snatched it from her, now a very definite shade of scarlet. "That's- Well, James bought me some toffees and stuff, just because- It was a nice gesture, Helena, don't look at me like that!"

Helena blinked innocently. "Like what?"

"So- So _smug_!"

"I'm sorry," she replied, quickly schooling her expression. "It's just that not so long ago you wouldn't have accepted any such 'gesture', not from him. Are you coming round?"

"No! Well, I… I don't think so, not- I- I'm confused," she finally got out.

"So I see. Don't sweat it, Lily. There's no shame in changing your mind about someone. In fact I think it's a good thing. He's a nice guy, you're a nice girl—even if you never get further than that, it's still a good thing. Right?"

Lily was forced to nod, even if she didn't want to. "Moving on, I have a note for you." She handed over a small scroll of parchment addressed to Helena, though not in any handwriting she recognised—loopy and neat.

Reading through it, it was just a brief, if surprising, message. "It's from Dumbledore. He wants me to meet him in his office after dinner tomorrow but he doesn't say why."

"D'you think it's because of the letter from your solicitors?" Lily asked. "I mean, the whole school knows by now you're a wealthy woman."

"I have no idea. Don't know why Dumbledore would care about that though, do you?"

"Maybe he just wants to congratulate you for getting out," Lily said, laughing.

From the expression on the headmaster's face, the next evening, he did _not _want to congratulate her for being free of her family. Instead he looked very grave, and very sad about something.

"What's this about, Professor?" she asked politely, sitting in the chair he indicated.

"It's about the letter you received from Dragonbeard-Griswald & Sons," he said, folding his hands. "Are you aware, Helena, that your background has been of interest to me for some time now? Your real background?"

She shook her head. "I had no idea, sir. So I'm _not _a Malfoy then? We're right about that?"

"Yes. I've had my suspicions for a while now, and they've recently been confirmed. I believe your mother was a muggle by the name of Cathy Elms," he said, handing over a yellowed newspaper.

The pictures on it were still; it was the _Independent. _On the front page was a colour photograph of a woman with Helena's eyes, along with five other people, male and female. "Death Mystery Continues," she murmured, reading the headline. "She died?"

"She was murdered," Dumbledore said gravely. "By a killing curse, which left no traces detectable to the muggle authorities."

Helena frowned, and looked back at the woman who was her mother. She read through the article slowly, determined to get everything out of it that she could. It wasn't a lot. She'd been twenty-seven years old, and almost no history. That was because nine months before her death, she had turned up at a police station—without any idea who she was. She'd had a previous criminal record for petty theft, nothing particularly bad, so London Metropolitan Police had been able to match her fingerprints, and give her her name. They had not been able to give her the identity of the father of the twins she was carrying.

"Twins? But I- I don't have a twin. There's Lucius, but-"

"Keep reading."

The birth had gone badly, and needed a caesarian section. It was risky in the 60s, and the rate of mothers who died was higher than it was now. But that wasn't what had happened. Instead, some unnoticed, unidentified person, had managed to get into an operating theatre and slaughter everyone in there. The surgeon, the midwives, the nurse, the anesthetist: everyone. And mother—and one child. A boy, no more than three minutes old when he was killed. Cathy's stomach was still cut open, still waiting to be sewn back up.

"Of the baby girl there was no sign. Police are baffled and are appealing to the public for information." Helena looked up at Dumbledore in horror. "This is terrible! It's horrific!" Then her forehead creased. "But it doesn't make sense! Why would anyone murder an innocent woman, or all of the muggle healers? Why would whoever it was save _me _but…but kill my brother?" she finished sadly.

"I suspect you know the answer to that, at least for the most part."

Helena sighed. "Someone like my- the Malfoys. And just because they were muggles. There didn't need to be any other reason."

"I think so. But unfortunately I also have my suspicions as to the identity of the killer."

Helena frowned, thinking. "Wait…there's no way the Malfoys would take me in if I was a muggle-born. Which means my father is a wizard. And if they were killed by a curse, then- My _father_ killed my _mother_? My brother—all those people? Why? If he loved her-"

"He didn't. It's my belief he's completely incapable of love or anything approaching it."

Helena squeezed her eyes shut. "Just tell me, Professor, please. I need to know."

"It's impossible to prove, but it is very likely your father is Lord Voldemort."

Her eyes snapped open. He looked completely serious. "That's not- That's not possible. He's not even _human_!"

"He isn't now. But he once was."

"But- _Why_? Why would he sleep with a muggle, of all people?"

"He probably raped her. And it was probably more an experiment than anything. Voldemort testing for any weaknesses he might have before he launched his bid for power. Interest in sex is not one of them, that much he proved."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't he just kill her after the rape? Why would he risk a child? Why would he save me but kill my brother? And _why_ would he give me to the Malfoys? Why would they _agree_?"

"The article says Cathy had been suffering from amnesia for several months beforehand, had no idea how she had become pregnant or even what her name was," the elderly wizard reminded her.

"A memory charm?"

"Yes. I've no idea how he found about the pregnancy, but evidently he did, and took you. The boy, I imagine he thought could a be a rival. As to why he gave _you_ to the Malfoy family to raise, I imagine there was the possibility of you being an ally or follower later in life. They agreed because—well, of who he was. Even twenty years ago he was a force to be reckoned with."

Silence resumed. Helena became aware of the fact that she very much needed to be sick. Without feeling any embarrassment, she turned and vomited all over the floor of the headmaster's study, unable to stop for what seemed like an hour. Her throat burned and her stomach ached by the time all she had left was bile. The nausea had not subsided.

"You're wrong," she croaked. "You're wrong, you have to be."

"I wish I were," Dumbledore replied quietly.

"But if I were, how can- How can the school accept me? H-how could the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor? How can my friends…"

She'd heard her voice failing a little more with each word; at the last sentence her voice failed completely, disappearing into a wheezy squeak. Dumbledore spoke again, his tone still unbearably kind. "You have always believed a person should not be judged by the blood in their veins. Do not hold yourself to a different standard now."

She pushed away from the desk. "Easy for _you _to say! You aren't the child of a _monster_!"

"Neither are you. Your mother-"

"Who my mother was doesn't matter a fucking _ounce_! Not if everything I am is because of him!"

Fight or flight kicked in; she ran to the door and yanked it open, running down the staircase and ignoring the headmaster's calls to stop. She didn't know how long she ran for or where she was going, but eventually she just ran out of ground, finding herself on the edge of the lake at the far end. It had to be two miles or more from the castle. There was still late snow on the ground, ankle-deep. The edges of the water were garlanded in ice.

The fight-or-flight still hadn't faded though, and the only thing in her way now was the vast expanse of icy water. Her steps didn't falter—if anything her pace increased, and she ran full-tilt into the lake. It got deep quickly. The sweat she'd worked up on her run from the castle didn't take any time at all to be banished in the freezing liquid which surrounded her. It hurt to breathe, needles stabbing into every inch of her skin and taking her breath away, outward pain reflecting the anguish which filled her lungs instead of air. Before long her feet weren't touching the bottom, so she swam instead, still as fast as she could.

Front crawl served her not as well as it might have done; her sodden robes were dragging her down, slowing her pace. But she still made it to the middle of the lake before it hurt too much to continue. She trod water, becoming aware of how cold she really was. The cold air stung her dry face, and the water seemed to be pressing inward on her, doing its best to crush her. There was an odd sort of clattering sound: it took a few minutes before she realised that it was her teeth knocking together loudly. Something warm touched her face; the tears making tracks down her cheeks.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible—it was Dumbledore playing some kind of sick joke, or he had no idea that April Fool's Day was months away still; he hadn't expected her to believe him. But then there was the voice which pointed out he was the kindest man she knew. The voice that said he'd never lied, as far as she was aware. The voice that said he might have known this for years, and never treated her differently from any other student.

Darkness fell, and she still didn't move, despite the fact that she knew hypothermia wasn't far away, creeping into the edges of her body. It didn't hurt anymore. She wasn't shivering. She should get out, she knew, but where would she go? Back to the castle, where Lily and the others were, tell them that the daughter of the man who would kill them all had been sleeping in the same bed for years?

The full moon was her only illumination, reflecting off the still waters around her. Looking up at it, Helena felt a fatalistic calm descend. _I have to leave, _she decided firmly. _I have to get away and go where no one will have to know me. _The Quidditch match tomorrow, that would be perfect. Everyone would be out of Gryffindor tower. No one would demand an explanation. She'd just be gone. Her friends would worry, but it would be infinitely kinder than telling them the truth.

Then splashing suddenly from behind her—when she tried to turn, she found that her limbs didn't want to obey her. Her fingers had gone completely white, and blue at the fingertips. Hypothermia. When she eventually did see what was causing the splashing, she stared. It was a huge black dog, swimming toward her as fast as its legs would carry it.

"The Grim…" she murmured. "Maybe… Maybe it would be the best thing… To die. How hard can that be after all?"

She kicked her numb legs out, just enough to propel her onto her back, floating in the water, arms stretched out. Waiting. The dog, it transpired, did not have waiting for death in mind. Jaws closed tightly around her right arm. She didn't feel it, though the grip was hard enough for the dog to begin dragging her back to shore. Still no pain, only a rough scraping when they got to the shore. With most of her body out of the water, the cold that had been missing hit full-force. She didn't so much shiver as she did shake uncontrollably, so hard it was once more difficult to breathe.

She somehow wasn't surprised when the black dog turned into Sirius Black. But that didn't mean she wanted to see him. "Oh God not you. Please not you."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**A/N: Overwhelmed by the response guys, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I really, truly appreciate it. First though, an apology: there's not going to be anymore sex now until about...chapter 15 or 16. Sorry, but trust me, it'll be worth the wait ;) **

**Chapter Twelve**

"Helena, what the hell are you doing out here? It's freezing!"

She nodded and began crying silently. Sirius touched her face and winced. "You're cold as death! How long have you been out here? Come on, we need to get you back inside!"

She flinched away from him. "Don't touch me. I can't bear it!"

He held his hands up and took a deliberate step backwards, his expression wary. "Okay…what have I done?"

"Nothing," she whispered.

"Hellfire, if this is about the sex thing, I told you it was a bad idea-"

She laughed. If only her problem was a broken heart! "It isn't that, Sirius. It's nothing you've done. You're just- Too good for what I am."

"And in English that means?"

Helena shook her head and shivered again, crawling backward away from him. He moved forward and reached for her hand. She flinched when his skin touched hers, half expecting to burn him. It was ridiculous, she knew. Sirius had touched her in ways she'd never been touched before—been _inside _her and not suffered any ill effects, why should that change now she knew the truth of what she was?

"Can I go back to being half-troll?"

"What's wrong?"

_I am. I'm wrong. _Could she tell him that? If she told him that, would she have to tell him everything? The picture when shot into her head was so sudden and terrible that she knew it had to be true. His face, but twisted into loathing and revulsion whenever he looked at her. Or worse, complete and total apathy. Not caring whether she lived or died. And James would be the same, and Lily- She had experienced Lily's apathy before, and now that she had her friendship…

"It doesn't matter," she lied. "It doesn't matter."

Padfoot apparently decided she must be sick, since he just took her hand. "Come on. We need to get you back up to the castle."

Helena tried to stand, but her legs and arms would not obey her enough to regain her feet. "I- I can't."

He frowned in concern, but crouched by her and held his arms out. "Put your arms around my neck. I'll carry you."

She nodded, and managed to raise her arms enough to slip them around his neck. Sirius slid his arm underneath her, with the other one supporting her back. He didn't ask her questions, for which Helena was grateful. She had no idea how she could answer him if he demanded to know why she was in the lake. She instead let him take her numbly, and it wasn't until they got to the entrance of one of the secret passages into the castle and he had to duck that she really woke up to the fact that she'd had two revelations in the space of one evening.

She lifted her head from where it was nestled in the crook of his shoulder. She tried to speak, only to find that she couldn't without the shivers making it into her voice. "W-wait… The- The d-dog, that w-w-as _you_. You're an ani-animagus?"

He nodded, looking relieved that she'd reacted calmly. "Yeah. Unregistered, obviously."

"How l-long?"

"About eighteen months."

She frowned, nodding. "Is this s-s-something to do w-w-with Remus?"

She felt him stumble, and nearly drop her. "You- You _know_?"

"Y-Yeah. I didn't, until- N-New Years. You all d-disappeared and there w-was no one else in the t-tower so I went looking on the m-map for you. S-saw you leaving the castle. Worked it out from there."

"I forget how smart you are sometimes, Hellfire. Which begs the question what the hell you were doing in the lake…" he muttered, without looking down at her.

She realised after a while that they weren't heading for Gryffindor Tower. Suddenly afraid that he was taking her to the hospital wing, she asked, "W-Where are we going?"

"Prefects' bathroom. James gave me the password; we need to get you into a hot bath."

She shook her head. "N-no. C-could cause a h-heart attack. Common room fire and y-you have to w-warm me with your b-body heat."

"But-"

"N-no, Sirius, you have to _listen_-" Emphasising the word cost her breath she didn't have, and she choked on nothing, a sharp stab of pain lancing through her chest. She tried to cough and failed.

Sirius swore. "Bathroom's closer."

Lost in her coughing, Helena didn't answer. She didn't think she was that much in danger of having a heart attack anyway—mostly all she wanted was to be warm. And being in a hot bath sounded like a completely _fabulous _idea. She must have at least begun to drift off though, because she had no recollection of getting from that corridor to the bathroom. She'd never been in here before, but didn't bother noticing the detail of what she was sure was a magnificent room. Sirius didn't bother with undressing either of them; once the bath was full of warm water, he lowered her into it. She saw his face again, and felt yet another pang of guilt at how anxious he looked.

Then relief took over anything else as warmth encapsulated her. The chill of her wet robes was quickly dispersed by the heat flooding in. It hurt, she couldn't deny that—as blood began to return to her extremities and met heat instead of cold, prickling pain began to register. Her face remained expressionless though. It was nothing compared to the iceberg that she'd successfully transplanted her heart with. Sirius had her hands in his, rubbing them roughly to restore circulation. She appreciated it—but still extricated her fingers from his. He had no idea what he was touching.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask or say anything else, apparently deciding it still wasn't the right time to push her. She was more than glad of it, and felt a wave of affection for him. She had such good friends, especially Sirius. James was his best friend, she knew that unquestionably, but sometimes…she thought that he might just be hers. Another reason it was absolutely vital she get away. She'd heard Lily mention radioactivity a few times, and had it explained to her—that was how she felt now. Dangerous. Poisonous and toxic.

"Warmer?"

Sirius' voice made her break from her reverie, and automatically shrink away from him. "My limbs are working."

"Good. Now you need to get dry and into bed. Do you want to share with me or-"

She shook her head quickly, physically turning in on herself. The idea of having him so close, so vulnerable, made her feel nauseous. Thankfully he nodded. "Alright, then we'll go up to the tower, and you have to get extra blankets, and cover yourself with them so that you can barely breathe. I know it's going to be uncomfortable, but I promise that it's the only way you're going to stay warm, even if it feels suffocating."

She nodded. It already did.

She walked back up to the tower under her own steam, though wrapped up in all of her now-dry robes, Sirius' jumper and his outer robe as well. She still wasn't warm, though she suspected it had little to do with her bodily temperature. He hugged her fiercely when they got to the deserted common room, and it was a struggle not to break down and confess everything. She went upstairs and did as he'd requested, because she couldn't betray his trust anymore than she already had just by existing. She was warm enough, and surprisingly slept—quickly. But she woke at the slightest noise throughout the night: Lily stirring in her sleep, or Amelia going to the loo. When the birds began their dawn chorus, she abandoned the idea of more rest and got up, dressing quickly. She didn't bother with any makeup, only scraped her hair into a rough ponytail, and even put on the robes from yesterday.

The castle was mostly dark when she moved through it, illuminated only by a grey light that she slipped through like a ghost. She wandered without a sense of destination. It was too early even for an early breakfast, and she'd no appetite anyway. Finding herself at the top of the north tower and observatory, she opened the star-spangled door to find someone else in there already. She winced and turned to go back down. She didn't want to speak to anyone, much less him.

"Helena."

Dumbledore's voice arrested her before she'd gone five steps. Unwillingly, she stopped, but didn't face him. A frail but strong hand descended on her shoulder and turned her around. "Professor… I don't suppose I just had a terrible dream, did I?" She looked up, eyes brimming with tears that she wasn't going to let go. "It's true? I- I really am-?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Very well. Thank you, sir."

She turned away, so she didn't see the tiny shake of his head, or the very sad expression on his face. Helena instead made her way down to a very early breakfast, though aside from black coffee she could stomach nothing. She was joined after a while by Sirius, who was obviously relieved to see her looking alright.

"Better this morning?"

She shrugged. "Fine. Not feeling like taking anymore swims, if that's what you're worried about."

"Good. Scared me shitless you know."

"Sorry."

"Still something wrong though isn't there?"

She shook her head, but didn't want to outright lie to him, so said nothing. "Please don't tell the others?" she said quietly. "I don't want Lily to freak out, and she will. And James'll just get overprotective." She raised an eyebrow. "Or does James already know?"

"Well, he knows I met you by the lake, but I'm fairly certain he thinks it just led to sex."

Helena nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem. Of course _I'm _not going to be satisfied with that explanation," he added, a bit sharply. When she continued to stay silent, he frowned. "Helena—seriously now—why were you in the lake, why were you crying and why didn't you yell at me when I transformed? Any other time you would have ripped me to pieces."

"I have bigger problems than you breaking yet another rule, even if it is a law. If you want to be such an idiot as to actually change your bodily structure than you can go right ahead."

She knew her emotionless monotone would only worry him more, but to let anything out right now would lead to a complete mental breakdown—and that she probably wouldn't recover from. Not to mention the fact that it would all come pouring out. And then she would be in the mental health unit of St Mungo's with absolutely no one in the world who cared.

"And these bigger problems would be…?"

"Merlin's beard, Sirius! How about my NEWTs, or the fact that my future depends on them! How about the fact that my family no longer talks to me-"

"-but you don't want them to-"

"-or that two of my best friends, in about six months' time, are going to become aurors and then directly fight against the most evil and powerful man who ever existed and probably get themselves killed!" There was emotion in her voice now—anger, loud and clear. She stood, finger out and now yelling at him. "So tell me, where in that list of problems do you think you and your stupid, pathetic Marauders and your stupid, pathetic rule-breaking should rank?

While Sirius sat utterly and completely stunned, Helena turned on her heel and ran from the great hall, tears shaking own her cheeks. Blinded as she was, she didn't notice where she was going, and ran smack into Remus coming down the stairs. She spent the next few moments crying into his chest while he hugged her bemusedly. It took some time for it to sink in that if anyone was going to understand what it felt like to be a freak, then it would be him.

"Sorry," she said, pulling back.

"Stupid question, but…are you alright?"

"Not really. But I'll get over it. I just have to…find a way out," she finished quietly.

He frowned. "A way out of what?"

"Doesn't matter. Thanks, Remus. I'll get over it."

* * *

"Lily?" She turned with a smile to see James looking, for him, very nervous. "Um, I was wondering ?"

"You what?"

He took a deep breath. "I was wondering what you were doing for Valentine's Day. Do you have plans?"

She shook her head. "Isn't there a match then?"

"Well yeah, but I meant…after. Fancy going for a drink or something?"

Lily paused. "Just the two of us?"

"Well yeah, ideally, but if you wouldn't feel comfortable then y'know…the whole team can come," he finished lamely.

Lily smiled. "I don't think everyone—but maybe Helena and Sirius?"

James nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Cool. Then it's a date," she smiled, before blushing furiously and almost sprinting away. She didn't see James practically float to his next class. She was too bust panicking. She ran into Helena waiting outside the next class. She looked unusually pale.

She clutched the brunette's arm painfully, face panicked. "Helena, you have to help me!"

"Of course—what's the matter, Lily, what's wrong?"

"I just agreed to go on a date with James Potter!"

"And you're cutting off the blood to my hand because?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me, Helena," Lily said, gripping even tighter, "but I just did something completely insane!"

"I heard you, Helena, but I think you're making a phoenix out of a flobberworm. Calm down, and please give me my arm back."

Slowly, Lily let go, and Helena guided her into Flitwick's classroom, sitting her down. "So James asked you out. Nothing unusual there, surely?"

"Well no, but normally I don't say yes, do I? What happened to me believing you when you said he was leaving his childish crush behind? That was supposed to be good news!"

"Look, do you think he's still as twattish as he used to be?"

"Well no…"

"Can you stand being around him? Can you maybe even…enjoy his company?"

Lily nodded. "I think so. Sometimes. I mean, yeah, over the last few weeks he's been nice. I think I might actually like him, Helena."

The brunette smiled widely. "Then what's wrong with that? You agreed to one date, not a marriage proposal."

"True. And at least I'll have you there too."

"You will?"

"Yeah, I've kind've agreed to a double date. So me and James and you and Sirius. I know you're not dating, but screwing each other is close enough."

"Lily, I really don't feel like going out on Saturday—I'm feeling a bit under the weather as it is-"

"Please, Helena. I can't face it without you there. I get that it could go really well, but it could be a complete disaster too. Please, for me."

Helena very much looked like she wanted to say no, but she nodded. "Fine, I'll come. Though I warn you it'll be awkward—I yelled at Sirius today."

"Over what?"

"Doesn't matter," her friend replied wearily. "Just another instance of rule-breaking. I think he expected a bigger reaction than he got and I just couldn't summon the energy. Then when he kept pushing I lost my temper."

"Maybe he was trying to impress you," Lily suggested.

Helena rolled her eyes. "Undoubtedly. But then he does everyone all the time, so what else is new?"

Friday night rolled around far quicker than Lily would have liked; it seemed like one moment she was up to her elbows in dragon-dung for Herbology and the next, laying out what she was going to wear on her date tomorrow. They'd be going straight down to the Three Broomsticks after the match (against Hufflepuff) so whatever she wore had to be warm, practical, fun and pretty all at the same time. So far Lily had gone through about two thirds of her wardrobe, with the end nowhere in sight. It wasn't helped by the sure and firm knowledge that Helena would be able to go dressed in a sack and still look fabulous. And she wasn't even trying to impress anyone. After another hour of sifting, Lily finally had something—a light blue blouse with a gypsy neckline, a maxi skirt which she intended to wear with leggings underneath, and a long navy blue cardi. She'd put her coat and scarf on over that for the match, and then de-layer once they got to the pub.

It turned out she needed those layers—the wind was icy, and there was a heavy haze of sleet that was flying horizontally into the faces of all the Gryffindor supporters' faces. Lily watched James play like she never had before; until she was…well, his potential-future girlfriend, it hadn't occurred to her that all his boasting might be more than simple conceit. When they'd watched Quidditch in the past, Lily had watched the Beaters, the Chasers, the Keeper—never the Seeker, not really. But now she was watching literal _poetry _in motion. He was amazing, moving through the air with such grace and skill that she thought that if they took the broom away he might keep flying all the same. Gryffindor were, unsurprisingly, winning.

The experience would have been incredible fun, a perfectly enjoyable day, if not for the fact that Helena was sat on her left side staring at the green of the pitch, far below the stands. She wasn't wearing any waterproofs and she hadn't bothered with a brolly. She was just sat there, staring at nothing and doing nothing. She hadn't said a word throughout the entire match, and the redhead was starting to be unsure about whether the water on her face was just the rain or something else—but why would she be crying? Lily had the impression she'd much rather be in the castle than here, and that the only reason she _was _here was because Lily had requested that she be, as a friend. If friendship hadn't been mentioned Lily was quite sure she wouldn't be.

"Good game, don't you think?" she asked in a forcedly cheerful tone.

Helena glanced up briefly, before looking back into the middle-distance. "Yeah."

"Rain's getting annoying though."

"Yeah."

"Can't really see the action properly."

Helena looked up again, pointed her wand at an empty patch of sky and issued a jet of yellow-green light from the end of it. It shot upward, and suddenly there was a type of shield, stopping the rain before it hit either the players or the spectators. The barrier seemed to be transforming water into water vapour, since it quickly thickened into cloud.

Lily goggled at her friend. "How- How did you do that?"

"Cloud Charm."

"But it's a non-verbal. You _hate _non-verbal spells. I thought you always had trouble with them."

"I guess not."

Around them, the crowd suddenly burst into thunderous applause and cheers; when Lily looked up the snitch was in James' hand and victory was theirs. The team embarked on a lap of victory around the pitch, and Lily cheered with the rest of them. Helena would snap herself out of whatever fugue she'd slipped into. Not that she wasn't concerned for her friend, she was, but she was also excited, and she couldn't help that she was actually more excited than she'd expected to be.

That anticipation had not faded when, half an hour later, she and Helena met up with their dates. Fresh out of the shower, both James' and Sirius' hair was dripping, but in the rain it mattered little. Not for the first time, Lily was grateful for magic—thanks to the hair potions she'd used that morning, she had no worries about frizz or anything else.

They had no problem chatting on the walk down to Hogsmeade, or at lest Lily and James didn't, conversation flowing easily. If he teased her, then she just teased back. It took her until they reached the Three Broomsticks to realise that she was actively flirting.

"How about a round of butterbeers?" James asked cheerily once they sat down in the pub.

"How about something stronger?" Helena responded in a mutter.

Nothing could dampen James' good mood though, and he only smiled. "Fair enough. Back in a mo." He returned with four tumblers and a small barrel of Madam Rosemerta's mead. He poured, and held his glass up. "To Gryffindor."

"To you guys," Helena said quietly. She drank hers in one go.

"It was a thrilling match," Lily smiled, trying to look at both Quidditch players when she said it and somehow only ending up looking at James.

He grinned. "You're lying, Lily. It was easy to play so it can't possibly have been thrilling to watch."

"Must've been the rain in my eyes then."

"Must've."

"When's the next one?"

"Well, Slytherin have to play Ravenclaw in two weeks, so we'll know who our next opponent is then. It'll probably be Ravenclaw—they're the better team right now."

"You'll still beat them though. You put everything into your games."

He shrugged. "We probably will. But there are other things to be thinking about in seventh year."

Lily clutched at the edge of the table in mock-horror. "Good job I'm sitting down—you have to warn me before you say things like that!"

"I know, you must be rubbing off on me."

"About time," she smiled. "I must be less of a busybody than I thought, it's taken me seven years!"

"Nah, you're pretty officious," James teased. "I'm just very, very persistant."

"I noticed," she replied, tone gentling.

One barrel of mead led to two, so by about closing time and last orders came around, all of them were pretty rat-arsed. Certainly Lily was feeling very giggly, and _very _flirty. She wasn't sure everything she was saying made sense, but as long as he was still enjoying her company that didn't seem to matter too much. And she was enjoying his company too, so much so that she was actually regretting asking Helena to come with Sirius after all. She was sure they would have been much happier in the castle, alone, and frankly now she was looking for opportunities she could freely kiss James, their presence was beginning to grate. They might have to kiss on their next date.

The group left the pub once Rosemerta had had enough of the Quidditch songs (Lily had no idea she even knew one, let alone the six or seven that James had now grafted onto her memory) and turfed them out. It wasn't a long walk, only a mile or so, but in the dark it seemed longer.

* * *

Helena couldn't help a little smile when Lily took James' arm on their way back up the path. She was no less drunk than the redhead, but then she suspected the move had less to do with support than it did the simple fact that she liked him. It lifted her spirits to see. Lily would be alright. She'd miss going to St Mungo's and train with her, but with other friends and James…Lily would be fine. Helena wasn't sure about herself.

"You're very quiet."

She nodded but didn't reply to Sirius. Then she realised—she was going away tomorrow, or very soon, and _this _was how she was going to leave it? She looked at him again, closely, maybe more closely than she had for a while.

"What?"

_Would you come after me? _she wondered silently. The answer was obvious though. He would. Sirius was so fiercely loyal to his friends, and her sudden disappearance coupled with finding her in the lake yesterday night…he'd never believe she'd just abandon them. And if he came after her he'd be putting himself through hell, and maybe even in danger. She needed a more permanent solution.

She reached for his hand. "I'm sorry."

His face cleared with a genuine smiled. "Forgiven."

Helena only hoped she'd be as swiftly forgotten.

Lily needed the loo when they got back, and despite enduring much teasing about 'breaking the seal', decided that she couldn't wait until they got up to the tower. She dragged Helean into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and then complained loudly when the brunette found the only toilet that wasn't flooded. Helena didn't actually need the loo. She was sat with the cover down, her sleeves rolled up and looking down at her wrists. She was suddenly struck with the morbid urge to see if her blood looked any different. It certainly felt like it was burning in her veins. And hadn't she just been thinking about a permanent solution?

Really, what was the alternative?

She swallowed hard and placed her wand tip against her skin, whispering, "Diffindo."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to my beta, CC :) I've just set up my website and official FB/Twitter pages, as well as a blog to blatantly self-publicise myself, so if you would like to Like/Follow, that would be brilliant. All relevant links are on my profile. **

**Enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Hel, are you going to be long in there? Really need to go."

"Yup…I'm just gonna be…few…"

Lily frowned. Since when had Helena used words like 'gonna'? "Helena, seriously. Moaning Myrtle's flooded all the other toilets."

This time there was nothing but silence. Lily sighed and bumped her head gently against the door. "Seriously, Helena, I know you're drunk, but-"

The water seeping under the door suddenly looked very dark. "_Lumos_." Very dark…red. Oh shit. "Helena! Helena, open the door!"

Nothing.

"_Alohmora_!"

And of course the doors were enchanted not to open to that spell. And slamming her shoulder against the wood resulted in nothing but pain. "_Reducto_!"

The door exploded inward, showering Helena in splinters. Lily couldn't care less—her friend had a long and deep cut stretching the length of her inner forearm, blood pulsing from it. She was unconscious. "Helena!"

It wasn't until James and Sirius burst in she knew she'd screamed it. James, bless him, didn't hesitate. He simply pushed past Lily and picked Helena up. "Hospital wing, now. Padfoot, run ahead and tell them what to expect. Go, go!"

Lily wasn't sure _how_ Sirius disappeared, but one second he was staring in complete horror at Helena's prone form, the next he'd vanished as though he'd disapparated. "Come _on_, Lily!"

They moved as fast as humanly possible, every single healing spell Lily knew just spilling out of her head. Likewise the names of any potions which could help. Thankfully Nurse Pomfrey was not as panicked. By the time they got to the hospital wing, she had her wand out and healing up the cut on Helena's arm before they put her on a bed, next uncorking a bottle of blood-replenishing potion.

"Hold her head up," she said.

Sirius, now whiter than Helena, did so, holding her head still and her mouth open while the potion was administered. It worked quickly, and soon there was more colour in her cheeks and Nurse Pomfrey directed Sirius to lie her back down on the bed. He immediately took her hand.

"Do any of you know what prompted this?"

They all shook their heads. "She- She was upset about something yesterday," Sirius said hoarsely. "But she seemed fine today. After the match we went down to Hogsmeade to celebrate."

"Ah, I thought I could smell mead."

"When we got back she went to the loo and then there was blood under the door and-" Lily cut off, tears falling down her cheeks. "I don't understand why she would harm herself."

James put an arm around her shoulders in comfort. Nurse Pomfrey spoke again. "Mr Potter, if you and Miss Evans could go and get the Professor McGongall?"

"Will- Will she be alright?" Lily demanded, not letting James pull her away.

"She will now. But Minerva needs to be made aware of this."

They both nodded and left. Without looking at him, Lily took his hand. "You were brilliant," she said softly.

"Well, I… I mean, she had to get to the hospital wing didn't she?"

"Yeah, but I mean, I panicked. You didn't. I've never seen you like that."

James didn't reply, but just grinned and held her hand more tightly. He hadn't panicked, that was true, but there hadn't been _time _for panicking. Though that wouldn't have stopped him if it had been Lily sitting there bleeding to death. He was pretty sure Sirius was still panicking, would until Helena woke up properly.

They walked quickly, though didn't run now that the immediate danger had passed. Halfway there, James asked, "Are you sure she hasn't said anything? I mean, it's not her exams or her parents or…"

"Or?"

"A guy?"

"No, she doesn't seem to be that interested in guys to be honest. I mean, the weird…sex-only thing she has going on with Sirius seems to be as far as it goes."

"So it's still sex-only for her then?"

Lily looked around sharply. "It isn't for him?"

"Nope. Not that he really knows that. But he's been pretty distracted lately, and not about exams or what we're doing after Hogwarts or anything else. It's good for him, to actually care about a girl."

Lily sighed. "I don't understand. What could cause her to do something like that? It's so out of character."

"You don't think she's been cursed do you? The Imperius curse I mean. There's no shortage of people in this castle waiting to use that, after all. And a blood traitor would be an obvious choice."

"She said she wasn't feeling well yesterday," Lily remarked.

By now they'd reached McGonagall's chambers, and James knocked loudly on the door. There was sounds of movement from inside, but Lily decided it wasn't fast enough for her; Helena wasn't going to die, but she still almost had—and McGonagall might be able to tell them why. Maybe. Possibly. But only if she got out of bed. She hammered on the door until it was opened.

McGonagall did not look impressed at being woken up at midnight; she wore a tartan dressing gown and a hairnet. Upon seeing their faces, though, her expression quickly changed to one of worry and concern. "Miss Evans, Mr Potter, what is it?"

"It's Helena, Professor. She's in the hospital wing and Nurse Pomfrey said we were to come and get you," James explained quickly.

McGonagall came out into the corridor immediately, setting a much faster pace than they had to her office. "What happened?"

"She- She must have tried to kill herself," Lily said, voice still thick with tears. "She just slit her wrist open."

The transfiguration mistress went almost as pale as she was. "Oh my goodness. Do either of you know why?" she added sharply.

They shook their hands, and if possible, McGonagall's pace increased. When they reached the hospital wing, she looked over Helena's prone form briefly and then spoke to Nurse Pomfrey. "Poppy, how is she?"

"She'll be fine, physically. But she needs complete rest and she cannot leave this bed for at least three days. Blood replenishing potion is a temporary measure, and it'll wear off in a few hours. She needs time to recover and for her body to replace what she's lost." She sighed, and looked back at the patient. "Mentally, however…it may be a very long time until she is fully recovered."

"Mentally?"

"Something caused her to do this, Minerva. Deep-seated depression is very difficult to cure."

"We were wondering-" James began.

"Yes, Mr Potter?" McGongall demanded.

"Well, we were wondering about the Imperius curse. I know it's a big thing to say, but this came on really suddenly over the past two days, and it's completely out of character. Almost all the signs we've been taught to look for in Defence Against the Dark Arts, she's shown."

"Are you accusing someone in this castle of using an Unforgivable Curse?"

"Yes," Sirius suddenly interjected flatly. "We just don't know which Slytherin did it yet."

McGonagall said nothing to do that, didn't nod or shake her head. "I need to speak to the headmaster. You three may stay here with Miss Malfoy until she awakes. In the meantime I want you to think carefully about anything else that could have caused this. News from home, or the pressure of her work and upcoming exams…anything."

"Yes, Professor."

She left swiftly, and immediately Sirius shook his head. "She wouldn't. She's free of those lunatics at home, which is what she wanted, and her work?" he laughed shortly. "She's smarter than any of us. This is the Imperius Curse, there's nothing else it could be. She's got her whole life ahead of her, she's got plans, she's got us- She wouldn't."

Lily and James both shook their heads. And then it was a waiting game for Helena to open her eyes. She didn't move, didn't mutter for several hours. She might have been dead except for the rise and fall of her chest. Lily fell asleep around three in the morning, her head pillowed on James' bony shoulder. James followed her about an hour later—Sirius couldn't. He had this illogical, irrational fear that if he looked away from her once, she'd stop breathing altogether. He had to give her an anchor. When she woke up, she had to know that she was safe.

The birds started singing around six, though the sky was still dark and the sun wouldn't rise for at least another hour and a half. As if she'd heard them, Helena opened her eyes. She didn't look properly conscious though. "Helena? Hellfire can you her me?"

The others jolted awake at the sound of his voice. "Helena! You're awake!"

Her blue gaze flew around the room for a few seconds, wild and disorientated. Her mouth twitched in a little spasm that looked like she was going to cry, but it was gone before Sirius was sure he'd seen it.

"How are you feeling?"

* * *

She swallowed hard. _Alive_. "What- What happened?" she croaked.

Lily got up and poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table, passed it to Sirius, who held it to Helena's lips. She shook her head slightly. "I don't need help drinking," she whispered.

He helped her anyway while James called Nurse Pomfrey over. The older witch came over and pushed between them, bending over Helena. "Miss Malfoy, do you know where you are?"

She nodded. "Hospital wing," she said, her voice stronger.

"Do you remember why?"

Involuntarily, she looked down at her left wrist. There was a long scab running the length of her inner forearm, dark vermillion in colour. It hurt to move her hand. "I did that," she said.

"Yes. I understand you might be distressed at waking up like this," the nurse continued gently, "but you're going to be alright. Your friends saved your life by acting as they did."

"Thank you," she managed to say, though she hoped they took hollowness for weakness in her voice.

As if on cue, the hospital wing doors opened again and the headmaster walked in. Helena wanted to be asleep again. When Dumbledore reached them, he spoke to the others, not her. "Please excuse us, Sirius, James, Lily. I'm afraid I need to speak to Helena alone. Just for a moment."

They reluctantly did as he asked, going to the other end of the ward where Nurse Pomfrey stood. Dumbledore sat on the end of the bed, fixing her in his light-blue gaze. He didn't say anything, and while Helena didn't want to either, she found that there was a bubble of words in her throat, trapped and rising. Nor could she look away. Finally it burst, and she tried to explain, though it was obvious to both of them.

"I- I tried to get it out," she whimpered, scratching at her wrist. "I tried to get it out, but it wouldn't come out and it's still in there just _pumping _around-" She stopped to draw breath, but it got stuck as a sob instead. She choked, even as a smile twisted her face. "And now I've got my own Dark Mark, see?"

Dumbledore's hand covered hers.

"Will it do, d'you think? If I decided I wanted to join him tomorrow? Or would I need to be branded on my right arm instead? I could do it. I could keep doing it, I could fill my skin with scars but it wouldn't help, would it, Professor? It would still be in there."

The words ran out after that, and she could only cry. She somehow ended up with her face buried in Dumbledore's robes, soaking them through with her tears. It was some time before she could stop crying, but eventually she did. "I'm sorry."

"No, it is me who should be sorry. I should never have told you."

She wiped her cheeks free from wetness. "But you did. And you can't take it back, can you?"

"No. But you must promise me, Helena, that you will not try this again, or anything like it."

She chuckled. "Why? I haven't been able to act with the full knowledge of who I am before now, Professor, if this is what I choose to do with it then surely you won't argue you've the right to stop me."

"Of course not. But I wish you to stop anyway. You are innocent in this, as innocent now as you were the day you were born. You've done nothing evil in your life." He lowered his voice, looking her in the eye. "I know what it is to want everything to stop, to end. I know how you feel—as though you can't possibly go on."

Helena couldn't help but believe him, though she couldn't say why she did. "Please, promise me that you won't try to commit suicide again," the headmaster said.

"But-"

"Helena. You have work to do, both in this castle and once you leave it. Good work which you cannot do from the grave."

Finally she nodded. "Alright. I won't try it again."

"Thank you."

With that done, he rose and gave her one more deeply regretful look, before leaving. The only one who came back inside was Sirius. "Lily and James have gone to bed. They've been up all night and I told them I'd look after you."

She nodded. "I'm sorry I've kept you all so worried."

"You're safe now. So what's happened?" he asked gently, smoothing hair back from her face.

Helena shook her head. "Nothing."

He frowned. "Hellfire, you tried to _kill _yourself. That is _not_ nothing."

"It is," she protested. "I got drunk, did something ridiculous and passed out. You're telling me you've never done stupid things when you're pissed?"

"Not suicide attempts I haven't! Add that to what you said the other night—clearly something's happened. Someone's done something, or you've discovered something-"

She just kept shaking her head. "Not that I know of."

"Helena! Stop sounding so bloody _calm_!"

"I'll panic then shall I?" she asked acidly. "Because that's obviously the way forward. My wrist is fine, I don't know why I did it, there's nothing wrong now—so yeah, let's use your method! When you grow up, Sirius, and stop crying over split milk, do let me know, won't you?"

"Split _milk_ I don't tend to worry too much about, Helena, the amount of blood you left all over the castle is something a bit different! And I refused to believe you don't know why you did it—even if you were drunk-"

"So you're accusing me of lying to you now? Because you're so free of _that _sin, aren't you, Sirius? I'm sure you've _never _lied to me!"

"Helena-"

"Just get out, would you? Get out."

He hadn't gone two steps before she wanted him to come back again.

Unlike the other fights, the other arguments, this division wasn't healed in a matter of hours or days. It, like the scar on her arm, remained. And it festered. Helena didn't speak to him if she could help it, or any of them. The others had questions too. Why had she done it, what was she thinking, could she remember anything? Helena couldn't answer any of it. Overnight, she became a social recluse. She either had her meals very early or very late so didn't have to chat, and if anyone offered a trip to Hogsmeade, she politely refused. Finally she was able to avoid Quidditch matches, with no one insisting that she come down and cheer with the rest of the house. She missed it.

She turned monosyllabic with everyone, even the teachers. She'd promised Dumbledore she wasn't going to kill herself, not that she wouldn't stop living. The feeling, the thought that she simply didn't deserve friends was impossible to shift. She wasn't actively vicious to anyone except the one person she cherished most. She mocked, she bullied, she spurned him wherever she could. Anything it took to make him hate her. And she knew that it probably hurt him more than it angered him. She was getting used to feeling guilty. It made the urge to throw herself off the north tower and end it all a little less prevalent—because she should be feeling guilty. She wasn't worthy of people like her friends, had never been worthy of them. The guilt was just the price she owed for years she'd not paid for.

On the plus side, now that she had no friends, her schoolwork was improving. She had nothing to do but revise after all. She even got good at potions. So good, in fact, that she was beginning to surpass even Lily. Her elixir to induce euphoria was now the best in the year. And James'…was the worst. He tracked her down in the library, where she spent most of her time these days, to ask for her help.

"Helena?"

She didn't look up, but her fingers tightened on the book she was reader. "What?"

"I need your help with my elixir to induce euphoria. I don't know what you're doing that I'm not-"

"At the second stage just before it starts emitting sparks, summon a cheerful memory and blow on the potion for ten seconds. A bit like a Patronus."

"Oh. Thanks."

She didn't reply, and he didn't move. After almost a minute she got up, closing the book and putting it back on the shelf. James was still waiting for her when she returned. She didn't sit down, but met his eyes, trying outwardly to express irritation while inwardly begging him to go before she cracked.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," he said bluntly, "What have you done to Sirius?"

"Done to him?"

"He's been a right foul git for weeks. And when he's not been foul, he's brooding. He doesn't _brood_."

"Maybe he's finally maturing," she snapped.

"See, and then there's that," James said, pointing at her. "You've mocked him before; you've never been cruel. And now you're being cruel. Why?"

A cold shiver crawled over Helena's skin. Maybe this was her father's blood coming out. She was pushing Sirius away so that he wouldn't discover the truth. So that none of them would discover the truth. But in doing that...was she succumbing to what she feared most?

"I need to keep him away from me," she said truthfully.

"_Why_?"

"To protect him."

"Helena-"

"Don't ask me why, James, I can't tell you why. But I promise this is for his own good."

"He wants to-"

"I know what he wants," she said quietly.

James made her look at him. His eyes were harder than she'd ever seen them, and his jaw was set. "Do you want that too?"

"I can't-"

"I didn't ask what you _could _do, Helena, I asked you if you wanted it too."

She swallowed, refusing to let the tears escape her eyes. "Yes. But it makes itself irrelevant."

Irrational rage and confusion swarmed in his head and heart—she was so _afraid_. And he could only think of one thing that would make her that scared. Only one thing that made anyone afraid anymore. Acting on his suspicion, he strode forward and grabbed her left wrist.

"James, what are-"

It became obvious when he shoved her sleeve back, exposing the skin on the underside of her forearm. It was bare, apart from the pink scar that ran its length. He let go, but Helena didn't move or speak. She just stared in mingled horror and betrayal.

Then she punched him.

* * *

By the time James got back to the common room, fifteen minutes later, his eye was swollen and red, puffy and rather painful. And that wasn't the main reason he was pissed off. He was pissed off because he'd gotten no further forward with Helena whatsoever.

"What happened to you?" Sirius asked as he sat down.

"I got hit," James answered shortly.

"By who?"

"Helena."

"What did you talk to her for?" Sirius demanded harshly.

"I… I was just trying to help, Padfoot."

"_What_ did you talk to her for?"

James sighed. "I wanted to find out what's caused this- this personality shift. It's so sudden and its so unlike her."

"I dunno about that. If she's a real Malfoy after all then maybe she's just trying to live up to the name."

"I know you don't mean that—but she didn't tell me anything anyway." A lie, but if Helena _was _protecting Sirius, then no way was James going to put his best friend in jeopardy. "And then I checked her arm for… Well, a Dark Mark."

Sirius stilled. "And?"

"No, Sirius. I didn't find one."

"Then what the fuck is she _doing_?"

James had no answer. Helena was the only one who did—and at this rate they'd need a miracle to pry it from her.

* * *

**A/N: I realise that may have seemed a little rushed at the end, but I had a couple people proofread it and I was assured it didn't. Let me know who you agree with in a review!**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to my beta CC :) Also, quick note for any passing royals :P - congratulations HRH Prince William and Catherine Middleton. May they have many long and happy years together. **

**Right, I also wanted to answer an anon review I got, so the rest of you skip down :) June: Please don't give up on the story. This chapter IS depressing and pretty full of self-hatred, but it is the last one in this vein. It'll pick up and get back on form after that, so I hope you stick with it. **

**Chapter Fourteen**

Helena was alone in the dormitory, as per normal now, idly leafing through one of her Charms textbooks without much hope of increasing what she already knew. NEWTs were still almost two months away, but without much else to do, she'd started revising already. She had a new hobby too—learning how to cook. Courtesy of the house elves in the kitchens, she'd been going downstairs and having culinary tuition from them. Initially, it had started because she'd not wanted to eat with the other Gryffindors. Lily, in particular, was having trouble with the idea that after only forming a real friendship in seventh year, Helena wanted to abandon it already. The only way to make sure the message sank in seemed to be to avoid her completely whenever she could. She that was what she did; unfortunately that meant possibly missing out completely on meals.

Hunger had driven her to the kitchens. The house elves did not ask why she didn't eat with the other students, and nor did they point out that she should either, not seeing that it was their place to argue with a human. They didn't really chat all that much at all either, since they were always totally and completely busy. But somehow they managed to make sure that Helena had everything she wanted, whether that was bouillabaisse or steak and chips.

One night after finishing a piece of wonderful key lime pie, Helena had sighed wistfully and thanked the house elves. "I have no idea how I'll cope without you when I leave Hogwarts. That was delicious."

Taking the plate from her, one of them bowed. "Thank you, miss."

As he walked away, she realised what she'd just said, and the significance of it. How _would _she cope? She knew a few housekeeping spells that she'd picked up, but cooking…? One could conjure plates, tablecloths, almost any kind of furniture or equipment, but food was impossible to simply create out of thin air. It could be summoned, but even if she summoned lamb chops, she couldn't eat raw meat. She needed to know how to cook even if she could get by with knowing nothing else. Getting up, she moved over to the house elf, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt your work—what's your name?"

"Addy, miss."

"Addy, I wonder if you could help me with something."

"Of course, miss, anything!"

"I need to learn how to cook."

His ears fell a little bit. "To cook, miss? But we give you all you want to eat. Is we failing to serve you well, miss?"

"No, no, not at all. In all my seven years here I've loved every single meal that's crossed my lips."

He bowed again. "Addy is pleased to hear it, miss."

"No, I need to learn to cook because I'll be leaving Hogwarts in June, and living by myself. I have no idea how to cook. I'd like you—or one of the other elves—to teach me how. Do you think you could?"

"Of course, miss! Addy would be delighted! When would you like to start the learning process?"

"As soon as possible, if I can. In the evenings, obviously, because I have classes during the day."

"Very well, miss."

Addy had proven to be a rather demanding taskmaster. He was never anything but completely polite and deferential to her, but he was not shy in telling her when she was doing it wrong either. Apparently even magical cuisine looked to the French for inspiration, so she was being taught classical French dishes and sauces. She was now reasonably confident that if ever asked to produce a silky-smooth hollandaise, it would not be beyond her. So far, the only thing that she still couldn't do was poach the perfect egg. Which was a problem, because she had to have something to serve with her silky-smooth hollandaise, and according to Addy, there was nothing better than a poached egg.

So far she'd cooked her way through poultry, fish, eggs (almost) and sauces. There were still many elements to go before she could call herself a cook. It had occurred to her more than once that perhaps she should have been more specific when she'd asked Addy to teach her how to cook, since she meant feed herself, and he'd apparently meant feed the Queen. Well, she couldn't go back on it now. If nothing else, it was filling her evenings and distracting her quite successfully from the fact that no amount of house elves were a replacement for her friends. Between cooking, attending lessons and revising for her exams, Helena was amazed that she managed to find time to sleep, much less miss human companionship.

NEWTs were four weeks away when she received another note from the headmaster, requesting her presence in his office again. She stared at it for almost the entire night before the meeting was due, unable to help the ridiculous hope streaming through her. Maybe he was going to tell her that he'd made a mistake, that some other poor sod was Voldemort's daughter, not her. Maybe she could go back to her friends and beg their forgiveness, explain the whole thing and then everything would be okay. She knew that it was silly, that it was setting herself up for a fall and that it would just hurt all the more when it turned out she really was who he'd told her she was. She was brushing her hair the next morning when a terrible thought struck her: what if it was more bad news? What if she was not only his daughter, but she was somehow more susceptible to mind-control of some kind? What if she was going to end up a Death Eater because she had no choice in the matter? What if, somehow, she was going to end up as a dark witch herself, _worse _than Voldemort? Had Dumbledore heard a prophecy?

By the time seven p.m. that evening rolled around, Helena was frantic. She'd slept very badly the night before, so her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. Her hair had stayed dishevelled no matter what she'd done to it, and though she'd never bitten her nails before, now they were down to the quick, and sore. She knew she looked terrible, but there was no one to look nice for anymore. She didn't even care enough to look nice for her own self-respect. That was for people who deserved it.

When she arrived at Dumbledore's office, it was with a very gloomy air. She spoke before he did. "Don't tell me, Professor, my mother's actually Morgana herself," she joked wearily.

Dumbledore did not smile. "Am I right in thinking that you do not intend to take up the proffered post as a junior healer at St Mungo's, come July?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Do you know what you will do?"

_Leave. Scotland, Britain, Europe._ "I...hadn't thought that far, sir. Why?"

"Because I may have a task for you. Allow me to explain. Fifteen years ago, when it became clear that Lord Voldemort was after power and would do anything to get it, I created a secret society, dedicated to fighting the forces of evil in general, and Voldemort in particular."

"Sort of the anti-Death Eaters?"

"Precisely. We are known as the Order of the Phoenix."

He must have seen the question on her face: _why are you telling me this? _

"I want you to join us."

Helena blinked. "You what?"

"I wish you to become an active agent of the Order."

"But...why me? He's my-"

"Yes, which is exactly why."

He paused, and Helena found a horrible thought entering her mind. "Professor, you don't want me to go in and spy do you? I really don't think I could-"

"No, no, calm yourself, Helena, that wasn't what I had in mind at all."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. Then what do you want me to do?"

"Before your birth, before he returned to England, Voldemort spent much of his time on the continent, in eastern Europe to be exact. Albania. No one apart from a select few of his followers knows what he did there, or what new magics he may have researched. It's not far from Istanbul, which before the Turkish conquest in 1453 was called Constantinople. You might remember from your History of Magic lessons that Constantinople contained the greatest magical library to ever exist anywhere in the world—as the Great Library of Alexandria was for muggle knowledge."

She nodded. "I remember."

"It's my belief that Voldemort found some remnant of this library—while much of it _was _destroyed by the Turks during the fifteenth century, at least some of it must remain. If you accept, I want you to go to Istanbul, with me, to rediscover his find. I know where it is, I merely require assistance to get inside."

Helena squinted. "Why? I mean, why me? I'll happily join the Order of the Phoenix, Professor, if you really think I won't be a hazard to you—but there are more experienced witches and wizards. I can't imagine Professor McGonagall isn't part of the Order…"

"You are correct there," he smiled, "but it must be you."

Helena thought hard. The only thing unique about her was her parentage. "Is there some kind of blood magic, protecting it? Has Voldemort designed it so that only he will be able to open it?"

"Or someone of his blood, yes."

She nodded, feeling deflated. She meant what she'd said; she would happily spend the rest of her life fighting against Voldemort, but for just one second she'd thought that she was going to be included in something, a member of something just like all the other members. Not at all. She was being included…because she was _ex_cluded. "Do you think it will make a difference?" she asked. "Knowing what he did back then?"

"I do."

"Then of course, Professor. I'll do everything I can."

As always with Dumbledore, she got slightly more than she bargained for: the headmaster put his hands together and smiled genially at her. "Excellent. Then if it's alright with you, we'll go on Saturday afternoon. The majority of the school will be down at the Quidditch pitch watching the semi-final so I doubt we will be missed."

She shrugged. "I haven't been going to matches anyway."

He looked over the top of his glasses at her. "No, I know. Something else we need to talk about, Helena, but for the moment it will have to wait."

He could talk about it all he liked; she was done talking, and done thinking about it. She was what she was, and she had to accept that and move on, shape her own destiny without damaging anyone else's. That meant sacrificing the people she loved to keep them safe. It was what she'd told James, and it was what she'd tell Dumbledore too.

"How are we getting to Turkey?" she asked, changing the subject back to more comfortable ground.

"A portkey. Unauthorised, as Voldemort has followers and informants in the Ministry and it's too dangerous to go through legal channels."

He got up, and moved over to a richly decorated screen two one side, pushing it back. Helena gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Behind it was a bird stand, and perched on it, the most beautiful bird she'd ever seen. Huge, red and gold plumaged, intelligent black eyes. "A phoenix… He's beautiful, Professor. Is this where the name comes from? The Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes, the inspiration is drawn from Fawkes."

Fawes inclined his head to Dumbledore, and then to Helena. Unconsciously, she rose and moved toward the bird, fingers stretched out to pet him. His feathers were as soft as down. As she stroked down to touch his beak, he tilted his head again and there was moisture on her finger; one pearly, shimmering tear clinging to her fingertip. She glanced up to Dumbledore, who moved his wand forward and touched the tear. It crystallised with a cracking kind of sound, liquid made solid. She tipped the tiny thing onto her palm.

"Made liquid again it has healing powers, but solid it is the badge that all members of the Order wear. How you wish to do so is up to you. The only thing I would ask is that you wear it discreetly. There are many enemies of the Order, it would not do to mark yourself as a target."

"Like my blood won't do that for me," she muttered, still fingering the teardrop. "Forgive me, Professor, but what's this _for_? I mean, I doubt pretty jewellery is how you tell members of the Order you need them."

"Quite right. Because all members are connected through these tears—since they all come from Fawkes—they serve as methods of communication, or summons."

"Ah. A nice Dark Mark."

"Indeed."

She nodded and curled her fist, keeping the teardrop cradled. "Thank you, sir."

When she got back up to her dormitory, she took it out and looked at it again, wondering where she was going to wear it. _Somewhere discreet… _Hitting on an idea, she conjured a thin gold chain, and threaded the tear-pendant onto it, then wrapped it around her ankle. She fastened it with magic too, choosing not to bother with a clasp that could break. The teardrop felt warm against her skin. As she fingered it, she reflected that Dumbledore didn't have to tell her anything about the Order, much less induct her into it. She would have agreed to go to Istanbul with him anyway, whatever it was. But he had—the damn compassion again. Hoping to ease her loneliness even if, past this, she couldn't be of any real use. She appreciated it.

* * *

Turkey was…hot. It was Helena's first impression. In May Britain was hardly cold, but the heat of the country she now stood in was like stepping into a warm bath. She'd managed to unsuccessfully land (read: been thrown off the portkey and onto her arse) once the portkey had deposited them here; she wasn't sure how they were getting back. In theory apparition to the village could work, except she wasn't confident of her ability to apparate that far. They appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, but as her eyes adjusted to the gloom she realised that there were structures around them, of a sort. Ruins. To her left was clearly a wall, several feet wide and still at least ten feet high. Just ahead was a a shallow depression, square and filled with water. Around its edges were shards of brightly coloured tile peeking through to shine in the moonlight.

"Is this the old city?" she asked.

"Some of it. The old city is the new city really; this is one of the few areas that has not been touched or rebuilt over."

"Why not? Muggle-repelling charms?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, apparently approving of her guess. "Yes, there are several areas of the city that are covered in the same charms. Unfortunately charms cannot stop the spread of fire, and that is exactly what happened to the library."

"I see."

The headmaster moved forward, picking his way through the ruins, and Helena followed, lighting the end of her wand so she could better see where she was going. They walked for four or five minutes before he halted before a circle of seven limestone columns, each intricately carved with fantastical creatures Helena only recognised from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. The one Dumbledore had stopped in front of depicted a twining serpent, fangs bared and hissing at the world.

"Nothing like sticking to cliché, is there?" she muttered. "What do I have to do?"

He pulled a short silver dagger out of his robes and handed it to her. "The snake must be fed."

Wincing a little, she opened a cut at the top of her index finger and swiped it across the open mouth of the serpent. _Please let nothing happen, please let nothing happen… _The prayer that she'd told herself wasn't being recited dried up as the dull stone gained texture, lustre and movement. It took all her courage not to flinch away as it reared up off the column to wrap itself around her forearm. It continued upward until her arm was completely covered in its coils and she could no longer feel her fingers. It moved its head to look her straight in the eye, scarlet-slitted pupils pitiless and assessing. She had no idea what it was looking for, and before she could move or speak it darted forward, striking at her neck. Its fangs stabbed in and then just as quickly out again. Helena reeled, but Dumbledore made no move to either stop the snake or help her. The thing unwound itself from her arm and then moved back to the column, wrapping itself back around that and diving down it to disappear into a hole in the ground.

Helena put a hand to her neck, feeling wetness. "I thought you _didn't _want me dead," she complained.

"It would be fatal to anyone else," Dumbledore assured her. "You aren't feeling weak are you?"

She shook her head. "Guess that proves it."

Dumbledore took her forearm and pulled her backward a few paces; the hole that the snake had disappeared into was rapidly widening, and when it stopped was four feet in diameter. Helena groaned. "We're going to jump down that, aren't we?"

"Yes. And I think in this case, it might be safer _age before beauty_."

A brief gleam of silver from the moonlight on his hair, and Dumbledore was gone. Helena sighed. No matter what assurances he'd given her, she was not convinced by this idea. That snake might not have caused any lasting damage, but it hadn't seemed all that convinced either. If there were more booby traps, would they be able to get through them as well?

"Helena?"

Taking a deep breath, she jumped. Half a second after the light from Dumbledore's wand came into view, she realised that a Cushioning Charm would have been a good idea, because this was going to- Her ankle twisted as she landed, so she threw her arms out to catch herself. It still went wrong though; her right wrist bent back with a wrench of pain. She hissed and clutched it to her chest, tears beading in her eyes.

"Let me see."

Gritting her teeth, she stretched out her hand to Dumbledore; he waved his wand briefly over her wrist, dulling the pain. He conjured a white sling and bandaged her arm in it. "That will have to do for the moment. It isn't broken, though Nurse Pomfrey will be a better judge of that than me."

She nodded. "We need to carry on."

The two of them proceeded cautiously. The tail of the snake she'd awoken slithered in and out of sight, leading them on further into the tunnel. She lost count of how far they'd gone, or how long it took them; Dumbledore didn't speak so neither did she. She was just beginning to believe that maybe this tunnel would go on forever when their serpent guide stopped, and a dark grey door appeared. It had no obvious signs of entry.

Helena looked at the headmaster. "More blood?"

The snake was already answering them; it moved back to Helena and reared up. It's forked tongue flickered once, twice, three times over the cut on her index finger, collecting more blood. That done, it turned and _vomited _on the door, literally throwing itself up. Within moments, there was nothing left of the creature but a moldy pile of dust, and a door that slid smoothly back to one side. Helena eyed the mound with disgust.

"You know for being the most feared Dark Wizard of all time, this magic seems rather…crude."

"This is going back more than twenty years, Helena. And the shedding of blood is always the most obvious form of evil, though you are right, it is not the most refined. I fear Voldemort has given far too much time to refining his evil," Dumbledore replied, moving through the doorway.

There was no more tunnel after it, and the walls shot outwards to reveal a chamber, high-ceilinged with torches lining the walls. Metal chests sat at intervals around the edges, each other with another serpent lock. Helena counted more than a dozen in all.

"This is all that remains of the Great Library of Constantinople," Dumbledore said, sounding incredibly said.

"How will we move them?"

As a seventh year, Helena was not used to feeling out of her depth. She wasn't arrogant enough to think that she knew every spell that had ever been created, but she'd like to think she knew a good half of them. But so far this evening, she'd had no idea how the blood-spells had been created by Voldemort, and when Dumbledore swept his arms in an arc and all the chests disappeared, she had even less idea how he'd done that.

Smiling, Dumbledore turned to her. "Thank you, Helena. Your assistance has been very much appreciated."

She nodded. "I can't say I've enjoyed it. But it's been a nice break from poaching eggs I suppose…"

"Now, I think we can apparate back to Hogsmeade without too much trouble, don't you?"

"It's a bit far," she said doubtfully.

"Ah, very true. Alright then, Portkey it shall be." He bent and picked up a stone from the ground and tapped it. Nothing noticeable happened, but when Helena put three fingers onto it, it was slightly warm.

"Three, two one…"

Helena felt a hooking sensation, and then everything blurred into whiteness. She once again managed to end up in a big heap on the floor of Dumbledore's office. The chests he'd already transported were piled up to one side. Using the desk to help herself up, she brushed off her robes with her good hand and looked at them. "Do you want me to open them now, Professor?"

He looked at her keenly. "Do you want to see what's inside them?"

"I… I don't know. I don't want to look at anything to do with him, Professor, but if it'll be of help to the Order then I suppose there's no other option, is there? I'm the only one that can open them, assuming it's the same locking mechanism."

With a sigh, she levitated the topmost truck down to her and wiped her finger across the lock: the two prongs of a snake's tongue. She bit her lip at the pain as the two points dig deeper into her flesh than Dumbledore's knife had, and colder. It seemed to do the trick though—it didn't turn real, but the tongue withdrew and the truck lid popped open. She'd expected to find books inside, but given the age that Constantinople had been founded in, it shouldn't have been surprising to find neatly stacked scrolls instead. Some had broken wax seals whereas others had been read so many times they were now flat. Helena reached in and picked one up, unfurling it. It was covered in writing…unfortunately writing in a language Helena could not understand.

"I have no idea what that even _is_."

"Ancient latin, I suspect. Mine is a little rusty, so this will take some time."

"Well, mine's nonexistent."

"In that case, go to the hospital wing and have Nurse Pomfrey look at your wrist before you go to bed."

"Yes sir."

She did so, with Nurse Pomfrey unsatisfied at the explanation that she'd fallen over and hurt her wrist, despite that being the truth, or most of it. However, with Helena unwilling to give any other reason for her injury, the school nurse had to accept that. She tapped her wrist once and Helena was able to move it fully again. But she was still handed the sling back again. "Sprains are tricky. I want you to wear this for the next twenty four hours, just to rest the wrist."

"But it's fine."

"No objections, Miss Malfoy. Wear it."

Helena had acquiesced, though she wished she hadn't when, the day after, Sirius saw her with it on. The library was normally the best place to avoid him, but with the NEWTs looming, even he had given in to the urge to revise. Helena was in the most remote corner she could find, but it didn't stop the universe from pissing on her.

The moment he came around the corner, their eyes met. It was rare that happened now, and each time Helena's heartbeat spiked, and a hot, sick swooping sensation went through her stomach. Her hands ached to reach out to him; she kept them firmly where they were. Sirius looked away, and she was released. He carried on his way, moving a little way down the shelves to pick out a book. On the way back, he stopped.

"What did you do?" he asked brusquely.

She jumped, and then winced, both at his tone and the stab of pain that flashed through her wrist. "I fell down the stairs," she replied coldly.

"Which stairs?"

"Main one. The trick step caught me out."

Sirius folded his arms. "Seventh year in this castle and the trick step caught you out?"

"Yes, not that it's anything to do with you!"

"You're right. Dunno why I'm bothering to care," he sneered, turning his back on her and leaving.

Helena slumped over the translations. Would it ever stop hurting? She kept expecting self-preserving apathy to take over and make it so that she just wouldn't care, but it never arrived. She was sick of wanting to cry all the time, and she was heartsick of hurting people who somehow still cared enough to notice when she was hurt. If she couldn't stop caring, then surely they could?

* * *

James had never felt so relaxed in his entire life. Exams were over, the sun was shining, the countryside was flashing past the train windows, and his head was pillowed on his girlfriend's lap. He'd thought leaving Hogwarts would be an incredibly sad thing, and while he would miss the castle—and even some of the teachers, though he would never, ever admit that—it felt good as well. It felt…right. Hogwarts had given him everything it could: knowledge, friends. He looked up at Lily, who smiled warmly at him. _Love_.

The seventh years had the run of the train, since the rest of the school wouldn't be leaving for another fortnight. They were allowed to leave once they'd finished their NEWTs, so they were all a bit spread out. Pete had talked Moony into teaching him his tricks of chess, and Sirius had gone back to banging his way through every girl in the year, so was somewhere with person unknown, doing just that. James and Lily had a whole compartment to themselves. She was slightly more morose about leaving Hogwarts than he was, but he suspected that had a lot to do with the fact that her home life was so much less enjoyable than his. Apparently her sister Petunia—whom Lily refused to let him meet, though there were plans in the pipeline for him to meet her mum and dad—was in the process of moving out though, so hopefully things would get better for Lily.

"D'you think…? No, never mind," Lily said, shaking her head.

"What?"

"Doesn't matter," she said, smiling down at him and running her fingers through his hair.

"Thought you hated my hair being messy," he commented.

"It's different when I'm the one messing it up," she grinned.

"I'll say."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled despite the faint blush which stained her cheeks. Sex was something that had only recently come into their relationship, and talking about it still made Lily blush and giggle in a way that made him want to kiss the sense out of her. So he did. In fact he was still kissing the sense out of her when they were pulling through London.

"Wow, that went quick." Lily nodded, back to looking pensive.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just a bit nervous about starting at St Mungo's I think."

"Why? You really know your stuff, you're smart, kind, funny—you're going to be an amazing healer."

"I know, it's just…I'd feel better if I had someone doing it with me."

James nodded, his smile disappearing like a kneazle up a tree. Helena had formally declined the offer of post of Junior Healer earlier that month, and though he hadn't been surprised, Lily had been very disappointed, by both that and by her behaviour over the previous several weeks. When pressed, Helena had just said she was going 'travelling', though alone and without any specific destinations in mind. Lily shared his opinion that something had happened in February, but like him, she had no idea what that could have been.

"You'll make other friends, Lily."

She smiled weakly. "I know. But can I want the old one back too? It seems so wrong that we probably won't even say goodbye."

He nodded, but couldn't think of anything else to say. A few minutes later they slowed and came to a halt at King's Cross. James levitated both their trunks off the train and loaded them onto trolley. They were almost at the gateway when Lily stopped, and lifted her face. James was startled to see she was crying. "What's wrong?"

"I- I just can't, James, I can't leave it like this."

"Like what?"

She gestured to where Helena was pushing her trolley along the platform, eyes focused on nothing but filled with complete misery. Her mouth was down-turned; she glanced at the two of them, and then immediately away again, now looking like she was going to cry.

"Oh." He brushed some hair away from her face. "Lily, I'm not sure what else we can do. We've talked to her, checked out what spells she could be under…"

"I know, but-"

Lily was interrupted by a huge crash. Automatically, James pulled his wand out, seeing almost everyone around him do the same. It was the natural reaction, and with good reason: the crash had been several trunks flying into the wall as they careered off the train. The source: Bellatrix Black, wand out and pointing at Helena. Avery wasn't far behind her, and he also had his wand out, shooting a beam of electric-blue light at Helena. She deflected it, but then found herself facing an assault from Bellatrix. The Slytherin witch was relentless, firing spell after spell without apparent pause. Helena was a match for her though, throwing just as many hexes and jinxes back. James hadn't been sure since February she actually wanted to live, but now she was demonstrating extreme will to.

But while she could handle Bellatrix, she clearly couldn't be expected to take on more than one Death Eater, and she was facing two. The near-misses were getting nearer and nearer with each curse. Next to James, Lily had whipped her wand out and charged into the fray. Sirius and Remus were already coming to Helena's aid. With her allies though, Bellatrix and Avery were joined by some of theirs. Within moments, the platform had disintegrated into an all-out battle. The Death Eaters duelled everyone else who had stayed; most parents had grabbed their children and run as quickly as they could off Platform 9¾, and there was a crush going on at the exit.

James' blood ground to a complete and utter halt when Bellatrix uttered a scream of "_Crucio!_" and then the screams weren't hers. They were Lily's. Dropping her wand, she fell to the platform in a tight ball, and just yelled in pain, limbs spasming.

Helena got there first, shooting a whirling line of fire at Bellatrix. The Slytherin witch ducked out of the way just in time. The smell of burning hair filled the air. Concentration broken, she lifted the curse on Lily. James rushed to her side—she had tears running down her face, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, and he helped her up, noting how badly her hands were shaking. Behind them, Sirius and Helena were both advancing on Bellatrix.

"_Incacerous!_" Ropes burst from the end of Sirius' wand, but Bellatrix dodged out of the way; the ropes hit Nott instead, pinning him and bearing him to the ground.

"_Incendio_!"

Helena threw up a shield and counterattacked with a trip jinx which sent Bellatrix sprawling, and she was then attacked by another wizard, and then another, and another: the aurors were here. Within moments, the Death Eaters were fleeing. All except two—the original two. And they were _still _targeting Helena. Any idiot could see they were outnumbered and badly outgunned, but it didn't stop Bellatrix from yelling the least-likely spell in the world. "_Obliviate_!"

The spell took Helena in the face, sending her flying backward. Before she hit the wall, Avery stunned her before they both disapparated. Lily sprinted to Helena's prone form, shoving past Sirius. "She's breathing okay," she said rapidly, "and there's no blood, but-"

There she stopped, but James—along with the rest of the gang—knew how that sentence would end. _But that was a memory charm_. _But when she wakes up she'll have no idea who any of us are._

"We need to get her to St Mungo's, as soon as possible," Sirius said, breaking the silence. He moved gently past Lily and picked Helena up, cradling her carefully. No one argued with him.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! **

**Chapter Fifteen**

"How...extensive, is the damage to her memory likely to be?"

Sirius, James, Lily, Wormtail and Remus were all gathered around Helena's bedside, all of them looking equally anxious. Sirius was pretty convinced that the universe was enjoying toying with him—it seemed every time he'd decided once and for all how he felt about Helena, she either tried to kill herself (_just _friends) or got hit with a spell that had, as far as they knew, completely wiped out her identity (which meant it was impossible to hate her so much after all).

The healer shook her head. "No way to tell I'm afraid. We can't risk an awakening spell when stunners and memory charms collide. You say they hit her at the same time?"

"Yeah—the force knocked her off her feet and into a wall."

"Well, then we definitely have to wait until she wakes on her own. The spell could have had any degree of success: there's a chance she has no amnesia or there's an equal chance her entire life is a blank to her. Have you spoken to the department of magical law enforcement yet?"

"Not yet," Lily said. "Didn't want to leave her."

"Well, I would suggest you do it in shifts. That way Miss Malfoy won't be left alone and you've done your civic duty."

"You lot should go first," Sirius said. "I'll stay with Helena."

James clasped his shoulder briefly before taking Lily's hand, and the two of them left. The junior healer smiled kindly at Sirius. "Are you her boyfriend?"

"No, we…I dunno, once, maybe. Not anymore. Now I'm her friend. Always her friend."

* * *

There was a fuzzy pain, right between her eyes. It was like having a wet sponge stuffed into the space where her brain should be. She didn't want to open her eyes, for fear that would increase her headache. Under her fingers was a rough blanket, woven and fleecy. Unfamiliar. And the sounds around her were unfamiliar too—more noise than there should be, talking and buzzing and…sniffing? Was that someone crying? Who was crying?

She opened her eyes. "Helena!"

"Where- Where am I?"

The three people around her bed exchanged very somber looks, and then the young man with hazel eyes spoke. "You're in St Mungo's hospital. I'm James Potter, a friend-"

Helena interrupted, eyebrows raised in question. "Prongs, why are you telling me your name, you prat?"

"You- You know me?"

"Of course I do, we've known each other for years! What's going on? Why are we in St Mungo's instead of the hospital wing?"

"Well…we left Hogwarts, don't you remember?" Lily asked with a sniff. She had been crying; it was evident in the tear-tracks down her cheeks.

She frowned. "But we've had the Christmas holidays, why aren't we back at school?"

"Hellfire…" Sirius began, "what month is it?"

"January."

"Oh my God," Lily muttered. "Hel, it's not January. It's June."

"What do you mean 'it's June'?"

"Look," Sirius said, taking his watch from his wrist and handing it to her.

It had been a present from her for his seventeenth; the date scrolled around the outside of the face while the hands ticked the wrong way around the clock. Sure enough, _20th June 1979_ was roving around. And magical watches couldn't be manually altered, since they did it themselves. She looked up. "But…"

"You've been hit by a memory charm," he said. "We thought it was going to wipe everything out, but I guess it's just the last six months."

"_Just _six months?" Helena repeated, aghast. "And who hit me with a memory charm?"

"Don't look at me!" he responded harshly.

She blinked, shaking her head. "No, I wasn't suggesting-"

"Well good."

"What's the matter with you?" she asked, genuinely concerned about his hostile manner.

He sighed, shoulders slumping, and shook his head. "Nothing. Doesn't matter. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Bit of a headache but other than that… Who did hit me with a memory charm?"

"Bellatrix. We were coming off the train and she just attacked you, out of the blue. Well, she and Avery," James explained. "I think we've officially had our first battle of the war. The platform had a few chunks missing out of it when we left."

"So I take it- I take it she _is _a Death Eater now?"

"Oh yeah. Her, and several other Slytherins."

"Bloody hell. But what-"

She was interrupted as a healer strode over, waving wide green sleeves in a sweeping fashion. "Out of the way, out of the way!" They cleared the bed a little bit, and she lit her wand and shone it into Helena's eyes. "Good pupil dilation. Any pain?"

"No."

"Dizziness?

"No."

"Nausea?"

"No."

"Now," she said, folding her hands and fixing her with a sympathetic gaze. "How's your memory, my dear? Do you remember what your name is?"

"Yes; from what my friends have told me only about six months is actually missing from my memories."

"Excellent news. So your name?"

"Helena Morgana Malfoy."

"Address?"

"Well, I…" She looked in askance at her friends. She remembered leaving the manor, but now that they'd left Hogwarts she had no idea where she was going.

Thankfully, Sirius stepped forward. "17 Kensington Gardens. You bought it in early Feb."

"I _bought _it? Where did I get the money to buy a house?"

"Tell you later."

"Oh, okay. Any other questions?"

"I simply need to know your occupation."

"Well it should be student, but if we've left then I guess Junior Healer here. We start in July don't we, Lily?"

The redhead suddenly looked nervous. "Um, I do. Helena, you- you gave up your place for a job here."

Shock flooded her. "Why would I do that?"

"God alone knows," Sirius muttered, looking sour again.

"Being a healer is everything to me, it's all I've wanted to do since I was little, how could I just give something like that up?" When no one had an answer, she felt heat prick at her eyes. "What do I do now? Where am I supposed to-?"

The healer put a hand on Helena's shoulder. "Calm down, Miss Malfoy, don't distress yourself."

"But I need to speak to someone about this—I can't let this go, there's got to have been some kind of mistake, because there's no way I would have just let an opportunity like this go-"

"Miss Malfoy, I really must insist you calm down. Otherwise I will have have to fetch a Draught of Peace for you to take."

"But-"

Lily patted her hand. "We'll fix it, Helena, don't worry."

Feeling not at all reassured by Lily's smile, Helena forced herself to take several deep breaths. "Alright, you're right. We'll fix it. We have to." She sighed. "Um, how long do I have to stay here?"

"Not much longer at all. I'll go and get you a prescription for a dreamless sleep potion and then you can go, once you've signed your discharge papers."

"That won't be necessary, thank you. I know how to brew it."

The healer gave her an approving look. "Do you now? Very few new graduates would know how to do that. What did you say your name was?"

"Helena Malfoy. Why do I need one?"

"Just in case. Sometimes memory charms can have the opposite to intended effect. You may find latent memories reawakening in your dreams. Usually it's the bad ones."

"Oh."

The healer smiled again and bustled off to get the discharge papers. Helena looked at her friends. "You said Bellatrix did this to me? Why? Why would they attack me specifically?"

"Well we've been talking, and the only thing we can think of is that she hoped once you'd lost all knowledge of who you are, they might be able to…get you to join them."

"What, be a Death Eater you mean? That stupid bitch! Even if I thought we lived on Mars I'd never join Voldemort!"

"Apparently Bellatrix thought you would."

"Then she's wrong. I don't even- Why would she even try? Are they that short on pure-bloods?"

"Probably," James nodded. "Not exactly a lot of us left, are there?"

_Thank fuck for that_. The healer who'd seen her before came back over with a clipboard and a quill for Helena to sign the discharge papers. "I'm releasing you now, but I want you observed overnight, by a family member or a friend."

"We'll do it."

"Alright, that should be fine. If any symptoms of further memory loss or disorientation appear, apparate back here immediately. Understood?"

They nodded, and Helena got out of bed. She was thankfully still dressed, and brushed off her skirt and top, then reached for her boots, which stood at the foot of the bed. "So I take it I have enough space for all of you to stay? I mean, I need at least three bedrooms, don't I?"

Lily frowned. "Three?"

"Well yeah—one for you, one for Prongs, and then I guess Padfoot and I can- Actually where is Padfoot?"

They all looked around, but Sirius was nowhere to be found. Helena frowned, trying not to feel upset. Was that it? He'd just decided she was in no danger of losing her mind completely and then vanished? She frowned, trying—of course futilely—to remember anything from before she woke in the hospital. Maybe they'd had a fight? It would hardly be unusual for them after all. They had fights all the time. About everything.

James frowned and she thought he muttered something that sounded a lot like 'For fuck's sake', but when he looked at her again, his face was clear. "Right, well the weather's brilliant—how about a barbie back at your place?"

"A what?"

"A barbie. Y'know, a barbeque?"

"Which is…?"

"It's dinner, Helena," Lily told her. "Like a campfire."

Helena nodded in understanding. That explained why she'd never heard of it. Eating outdoors was reserved strictly for barbarians and muggles in the Malfoy household. "Alright, now will you explain to me how it is that I have a house?"

They did so, but the answer to one question led to several more, one of which they were unable to give her a solution to—_why_ Abraxus Malfoy had given her so much money. When she saw the house, though, Helena stopped worrying about that. Instead she just let her jaw drop and her eyes widen, taking everything in that she could. There was light _everywhere_. Lily and James went into the kitchen with the food they'd brought on the way back from St Mungo's while Helena wandered up to the second floor of her seemingly endless home. hearing noises coming from one of the rooms at the back of the house, she peeked around the door—and saw Sirius. His back to her, he was busy conjuring an ornate, huge fireplace, decorated around the edge with griffons, phoenixes, dragons, all of them beautiful.

When he'd finished, he swept his hair out of his face and said over his shoulder, "You shouldn't sneak up on people, Hellfire."

She stepped into the room properly. "Is this for me?"

"Yup. Housewarming present."

She hugged him. "It's gorgeous. Thank you."

He stiffened at first, but slowly his arms came up around her waist and he hugged her back. "I haven't unpacked your stuff," he said, "but you needed a fireplace for floo and stuff, so I did one for the kitchen and another one in here. The one in the kitchen's more functional than this one is but-"

She put her hand to his mouth. "Padfoot, shut up."

He grinned. "I wanted to get it finished before you go home. That's why I left the hospital."

"Right. I thought we'd had a fight or something that I couldn't remember."

He cleared his throat. "Where are the others?"

"In the kitchen. We're having a…barbie?"

"Oh cool. Garden's more than big enough."

"So I see."

They owled the other two Marauders, so within an hour of Helena's return from hospital all six of them were relaxing on Helena's lawn. Both Lupin and Wormtail had given her hugs when they saw her, something which surprised her until Remus explained that she'd actually been unconscious for more than twenty four hours, something which the others had neglected to mention.

Remus nodded to the bottle of cold cider in her hand. "Should you be drinking that?"

She handed him one. "Don't see why not. Peter, you want one?"

"Please!"

The afternoon had the feeling of…a reunion about it, which she didn't understand. Yes, it was weird that six months had suddenly just vanished out of her mind, and she was planning on getting a full account of those weeks from them later, but whatever had happened, she couldn't imagine they'd spent a prolonged period of time apart. Yet her friends were acting as though they hadn't spoken to her for ages.

* * *

"Padfoot, we need more alcohol."

He squinted at Helena. "Is that a hint for me to go and get it?"

"Only if you feel like being your usual generous, kind-hearted, wonderful, amazing self," she beamed.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Anyone else for a refill?"

"Yes please!" came at him from five different directions, so James got up to help him as well.

Once they got to the kitchen, James put the empty cider bottles down on the work top and faced him, arms folded. "So."

"So?"

"How you doing?"

The words 'I'm fine' were on the tip of his tongue, but looking through the window at where Helena and Lily were laughing together, he couldn't make them come out. "Confused. I mean- What's happened to her is terrible, but at the same time…she's back. She's _literally _the person she was. It's a bit 'be careful what you wish for' to be honest, Prongs."

"Yeah, but it _is _what you wished for, isn't it?"

"You want me to say I've missed her, don't you?"

"Dunno. Have you?"

"So have you."

"Yeah…but I'm not you."

"We need to find out why Bellatrix did it. Trying to kill her, trying to imperurise her, that's understandable. But wiping her _memory_? What could she hope to gain from that? What could anyone?" Sirius asked, ignoring James' point completely.

"Voldemort's orders?" he suggested. "Bellatrix is a Death Eater, that's obvious. But then why would You-Know-Who want Helena to lose her mind?"

"Well, if that _was _the plan, it failed. Which means they could try again. We have to be ready to protect Helena, whatever happens, whenever it happens." Determination filled his chest, looking at her. God, she still looked so strong, so confident, but she obviously had to be kept safe, kept protected. He'd failed at that once. He wasn't about to again.

Lily stayed the night with Helena to 'observe' her, but by the time Sirius and James left, both girls were on the wrong side of being three sheets to the wind. Helena had hit her head on the bannister staggering up the stairs, and while she didn't feel it then, he had a feeling she was going to be feeling it tomorrow. That along with a crippling hangover that would probably last all day. Sirius went back to James' and his tent feeling…full, but what he was full of, he couldn't say. She was back. Over the past six months, she'd looked like Helena, and she'd sounded like Helena…but it was like some other person had moved into her skin while he hadn't been looking. And now that person had moved out again. Hearing her laughter all afternoon long had been simultaneously alien and warming, strange and brilliant. It was like nothing had changed, like the last half a year hadn't happened for any of them, not just Helena.

But he'd meant what he said to James. Whatever had happened to her in February had happened because he hadn't been vigilant enough, because _none _of them had stopped to consider that maybe Helena was as vulnerable as anyone else. Now he wasn't letting her out of his sight for any longer than was strictly necessary. And this attack of Bellatrix's was troubling—without logic, without apparent point. Prongs' suggestion that they were simply after any pure-blood they could get made sense, but in that case why not try and take him, or Sirius himself? No, there was something special about Helena. Though he'd known that for some years, if he was deeply honest with himself.

Breakfast that morning was spent with the property pages of the _Prophet _open in front of him. James' parents had always been more than kind and welcoming to him during the holidays for the last two summers and Christmases, but Hogwarts was gone now, and he couldn't expect to live off their hospitality forever. Which meant finding his own place as soon as possible. The problem was, he had very little money. Expecting a random mysterious payout from his parents was laughable, and without no savings, it was dependent on a salary. Which wouldn't be coming in for another couple of months yet, once he'd started auror training. Maybe there was a bedsit somewhere he could live in for a few weeks before he had enough for rent.

"Sirius, dear?"

He looked up. "Yes, Mrs Potter?"

"You're being hailed," she smiled, pointing at the fireplace.

He looked, and in the fireplace was Helena's head. "Have you gone deaf, Padfoot?"

"I think he was concentrating," Mrs Potter said.

"Ah, that explains it. Hurts the first time doesn't it?"

He ignored that. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Your help with something," she said. "I was thinking-"

"Dangerous."

"-and I want to get some transport. But you know how rubbish I am on a broom and carpets are outlawed, so…I want to get a bike."

He put the paper down. "A bike? _You_?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"Just to make sure, we are talking a motorbike here, not some push bike without an engine."

"Yes, Sirius, I am aware of the difference," she said tartly.

"What's wrong with floo or apparition?" he asked, still unable to picture Helena on a bike, or at least riding one with any proficiency. She certainly couldn't a broom.

"Nothing, but I was thinking it might be nice just to go somewhere for the _going _of it. And for that I need wheels, and I don't really want a… a… the thing with four wheels."

"Car?"

"Car, thank you—I want a bike. So will you help me buy one?"

He looked out of the window at where his own bike sat under a tarpaulin, unused since the Christmas holidays. McGonagall would've hit the roof several times if he'd tried to take it to Hogwarts. The Potters' wasn't far from London; it would only take an hour to ride to Kensington and take Helena bike shopping. And he had missed it.

He looked back at the fire. "Okay. I'll be there in about an hour."

She smiled. "Thanks, Padfoot. Just touch the door to get in; I've enchanted it to recognise you and the others."

"Will do. See you in a bit."

Helena's head nodded at James' mother. "Nice to see you, Mrs Potter."

"And you, dear."

Helena had worked the spell well; he touched the door knob once and the red-painted door swung open silently, and then just as quietly shut behind him. "Helena?"

Nothing, and in the huge house it was difficult to judge where she might be. He gave downstairs a cursory check, but she didn't seem to be in any of the rooms, so he went upstairs. In the room at the top of the stairs he heard humming, and knocked on the door. "Hellfire?"

"Come in."

He did so, only to find her in the roll-top bath, relaxing in the hot water. It was side on, and with the sides of the tub being quite high he couldn't actually see anything, but it didn't stop him from turning around anyway. It somehow wasn't familiar anymore. No less alluring, but it wasn't…comfortable. She still looked like the evil bitch clone after all.

"I thought you wanted to go out."

"I do."

"Then why are you naked?"

"I thought you might want to join me," she said coquettishly.

"Well I don't."

There was a splash, and when she spoke again, she sounded utterly shocked. "Really?"

"Really."

"Why not?"

_Because you've spent the last six months doing your best to piss me off at every opportunity_, he thought savagely. "Doesn't matter."

"But you're turning down sex. You never turn down sex."

He heard her get out of the bath, and handed her a thick fluffy towel from the rack on his right, still without looking at her. She put a slender hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her. "Are you alright, Padfoot?"

"I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, you're actually going to lie to me?"

Her eyes were open, frank and expectant. She wasn't going to continue pushing him if he wanted to lie, but she was going to be supremely disappointed if he did. She also knew, he realised, that even if she didn't get the truth, he'd volunteer it later. Unless he managed to convince her that nothing was wrong.

"I'm not lying to you," he said, "but when we got back last night I had…an urge."

"An- Oh!" She laughed gently. "Oh I see."

He nodded, trying his best to blush and not sure he was succeeding. "Yeah. Not sure I'd be up to it yet."

Still laughing, she opened the bathroom door and went into her bedroom. "Give me five minutes."

"So what time did Lily leave this morning?" he asked through the door.

"Just after breakfast. Though that didn't consist of more than Dr Falmouth's Hangover Vanisher."

"Ah, I thought you were looking chirpier than you had a right to be."

"Wasn't this morning, believe me. Had to _scrougify_ the place more than once." She opened the door, fully dressed this time. "Did you bring your bike?"

"Yeah, it's parked outside."

Helena kicked up a bit of a fuss about having to ride in the sidecar, but after some gentle cajoling from Sirius (which culminated with 'Just do it, woman!') she did get in, and they arrived at a bike showroom about twenty minutes later. Where Helena proceeded to behave like a typical woman, drawn to all the prettiest bikes—though he had to admit some of them were _very _pretty—but not necessarily the best ones. He tried to steer her more toward the ones most either most powerful or the most reliable, but inevitably these were not sleek enough for her tastes. It was complicated by the fact that the salesman was edging her toward the most expensive ones. Finally she set her sights on a Harley-Davidson FXS 1200 Low Rider.

"I want that one."

"Hold your hippogriffs, Hellfire, I haven't even looked at it yet. No point in me coming if you're not going to let me give some advice is there?"

He looked it over, and the only thing he could find wrong with it was that he wanted one _immediately_. Maybe she'd let him borrow it occasionally. Finally he nodded. "You'll need leathers and a crash helmet as well."

While she was in the fitting rooms, it occurred to him that while he'd dodged a bullet this morning, eventually she was going to invite him to bed again. And he'd be hard-pressed to say no, even harder-pressed to come up with a reason that she'd accept. He wasn't even sure why he wanted to bother. There had been other girls in the last six months, but if he was honest, they hadn't been as good for the most part, and the one who'd been slightly better had turned out to be more than a bit scary the morning after. And while whatever had happened to Helena in February had been wiped from her mind, there was no reason it couldn't happen again, and then they'd be right back to square one.

No. Best they kept their relationship platonic. Strictly _out _of the bedroom.

"How do I look?"

She looked…like sex on legs. On shapely, endless legs. The black suit looked like she'd been poured into it; it clung in all the right places, and was trimmed in sky blue down the sleeves and along the zip, then down the legs. When she turned slowly on the spot, the blue ran down the seam at the back and framed her behind too. His mouth went completely dry.

Helena grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Good, then?"

Oh, wonderful. Hellfire in tight-fitting leather. He groaned, and then again when _his_ leathers became uncomfortably tight. The biker next to him looked over with a sympathetic nod. "Yeah. I don't think women that good-looking should be allowed to ride bikes, to be honest."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! **

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Please."

"No."

"C'mon, Hellfire, you've had it for a whole week!"

Putting her helmet on the seat of her bike, Helena put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. As had been the usual situation recently, his throat went completely dry again at the sight of this…biker goddess, and he completely forgot whatever he'd been saying a second ago. Therefore her next words took a little bit of time before he fully understood them.

"Look, Padfoot, you want to give me half of the money, then of course you can ride it. But until that point, it's my bike, and _I'll _ride it."

"Her."

"What?"

"It's a her."

Helena looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "It's an inanimate object."

"Yeah, but all mechanical things are she's. Like boats."

"Whatever. You're still not riding _her_."

"You're just…mean, that's what you are."

"How articulate. Now are you quite done? Because we're supposed to meet Lily and James in twenty minutes and we still have to get through London traffic."

"Alright, alright."

"Good."

Helena kicked her much-better-sounding much-better-looking bike into life and roared off down the street. Sirius followed suit with his—though at least he had the comfort of a cushioning charm, as well as several other modifications he'd added to his own bike. Helena hadn't thought of doing that yet, so for the moment he had the advantage over her as far as long journey's went. She had cast an extra-sensory perception charm on herself though, which was always useful before going into central London on a bike. Checking no muggles were around, Sirius pulled his wand out and performed the same magic on himself before following her.

James and Lily were waiting for them outside Eeylops, hand in hand with Lily rolling her eyes at Helena. "Tell me you didn't come on that deathtrap."

Deadpan, Helena replied, "I didn't come on that deathtrap."

More eye rolling, but the four of them went into the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. It had been a tradition for all of a week, but somehow Sunday lunch with the four of them in the pub had the feeling of being a life-long tradition, something they'd still be doing in thirty years' time. Good food and good butterbeer went a long way to everyone having a good time—but at three thirty Lily looked at her watch and cursed.

"Crap! The shops shut in an hour and it's Mum's birthday tomorrow! Come on, James!"

"But I haven't finished my-"

"I can finish it for you, mate," Sirius grinned, picking up James' half-full butterbeer.

Prongs had time enough to glare, but not much more time for that before Lily dragged him up out of his seat and grabbed his hand. "See you guys later!"

"Bye."

Helena grinned at their retreating forms, and then shook her head. "So when did _that _happen?"

"Around mid-February. James asked her out Valentine's Day and she said yes. Strength to strength from then on really."

She beamed. "Well I'm sorry I missed it, but it's brilliant."

"It is," he agreed. "Don't think I've ever seen either of them happier."

"This is just _weird_," Helena sighed. "I feel like I should be revising, not sitting drinking butterbeer. I mean, I suppose it's a good thing I don't remember the exams and being all stressed out—though I imagine if I got stressed a lot you got laid a lot, so-" she cut off at the expression on his face. "What?"

"Well, it's just that…by the NEWTs we weren't…"

"Why not?" she asked. "Did the sex get boring? Oh no, I didn't get a boyfriend did I?"

"No, it wasn't that."

"Did _you _get a girlfriend? A real one?"

He chuckled. "No."

"Then what? What happened to the friends with benefits thing?"

Sirius glanced down, fingers tracing patterns on the table. "We were…suddenly not friends anymore."

"What? Why?"

"You tell me. You must have had your reasons, but after your suicide attempt-"

"_Suicide attempt_?"

He winced. _Shit, shit, shit_. Helena was agape, eyes wide with horror. "Yeah, but- Helena, I never- I mean you didn't-"

"Why would I-?"

He took her hand. "I don't know. None of us knew, you never said a word. But you nearly died. Afterward, you…became distant," he finished. It wasn't the truth, but he couldn't bear telling her the truth. Not now there was a chance for… Helena was still staring at him, still apparently horrified. He squeezed her fingers. "Hellfire, whatever it was, you don't remember it. Don't get me wrong, I'll still kick Bellatrix's arse for cursing you next time I see her, but…you're back. We've got you back." He tried not to think it, but it happened anyway: _I've got you back_.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I don't know what could possess me to do that."

"Doesn't matter," he said firmly.

"How can it not matter? I can't imagine myself so unhappy that I'd want to end my life—can't imagine you would _let _me get that unhappy."

"I'm sorry I did. I promise, Helena, I won't again."

When she kissed him, it was like all the birds in London singing at once. It was just gratitude, he could taste that much. She hadn't missed him; there had been no time for her in order _to _miss him. He found he didn't mind, but by God, he had missed her. Had she always tasted like honey? The violets he remembered well, but it didn't stop his inner padfoot from revelling in the scent anyway, reeling in it.

He carried on kissing her for as long as she'd let him, reluctant to let her go before he'd memorised the feel of her in his arms. When she made a tiny noise of pleasure deep in her throat, arousal crashed through him.

Helena pulled back, her eyes sparkling. "My place?"

Her place, his tent, up against a wall—suddenly the need to be inside her had overwhelmed everything else. He almost splinched himself apparating to her house, his concentration most definitely not on where he needed to be. Helena had somehow managed to take her top off in the half a second longer she'd been in the house, and was quickly shedding her bra.

He had no idea how he crossed the study floor to her, but the next second his mouth was against hers and he was backing her up against the desk, hands on her shoulders and fingers not exactly gripping gently. It didn't seem to matter—Helena had already ripped his t-shirt from his back, and her tongue was dancing with his while her fingers undid his fly. He pulled his mouth away from hers to move it down her neck and to her breasts. Urgency wouldn't let him take all the time he wanted to, so he went straight to her pebbled nipples. Helena didn't seem to mind though; she moaned loudly when his tongue swirled around, and when his teeth nipped gently she arched her back into his mouth. Her fingers raked through his hair, holding his head where it was. Her hips bucked unconsciously, legs coming up to wrap around his. He drew away long enough to drop his jeans and pull her trousers off before coming back again. Face buried in his neck, she cried out as he thrust into her. He almost came right then and there; she was wet, but she was tighter than he ever remembered her being, so much so that he thought he'd hurt her. But when he saw her face, she had a wide, if breathless, smile all over it. She leaned back onto the desk, her hands gripping the edges with white knuckles. Her hips carried on pumping up and down though, and with every move into her, she clenched around him. Her feet dug into the backs of his thighs and arse in a vain effort to get him closer, pull him deeper. Both their cries echoed around the room as they got closer to climax—his hand went down to where they were joined, thumb rubbing at her clit. The reaction was instantaneous: for the first time, they came together, Helena arching almost completely off the desk while he let go with a long groan of her name. Helena shuddered for what seemed like a long time, tiny, breathy moans escaping her lips. He leaned down, kissing his way up her body and enjoying the increased shivers that were her reaction.

Finally he reached her mouth. "I missed you."

"I can tell," she grinned.

They lay against each other for a few more minutes, his head pillowed on her chest while his legs turned to jelly. Then his cock decided it wasn't finished. Surprising both of them, it began twitching and swelling again against her thigh. Helena looked at him with wide eyes. "Really-?"

"Told you I'd missed you." He pulled back and picked her up, not bothering with the scattered clothes. Helena shrieked in surprise, but didn't put up any resistance as he started upstairs and to the master bedroom. He placed her at the foot of the bed, smiling as she held out her arms for him.

* * *

All at once a thoughtful, almost soulful, expression appeared on his face. She rose to her knees on the bed so that their faces were level. He reached out to touch her face with gentle hands, smoothing through her hair and looking at her as though he hadn't seen her in months. Which, for him, was true. When he kissed her, it was like he was memorising her taste. He pushed her back onto the bed and moved up her body until he lay the length of hers, hip to hip. Looking into his eyes, something told her she should let him take the lead, let him choose how he wanted her—and also that he just wanted to give her as much pleasure as he could. He threaded their fingers together and slid her hands up above her head nudging her legs apart. She brought them up to cinch around his waist. He kissed her at the same time he as he pushed into her. There remained some tiny lingering soreness from his rushed entry before, but he kept his thrusts slow, but deliciously deep. Soon all discomfort vanished, and the ball of pleasure at the base of her spine began slowly unfurling. Sirius kept their mouths together, kissing her without hesitation or scruple. There was no attempt to hide anything he might be feeling. Something in Helena shied away from thinking too much about just what that could be; thankfully that ball of bliss was now winding sinuously up her back, extending into her limbs. Her fingers tightened around his as her back arched.

"Sirius…"

She wanted to tell him to move just a _little _faster, just a _little _harder. She was so close, all her nerves stretched to breaking point, so taut she was in danger of losing her mind altogether. Her lover refused all her silent efforts to speed this experience up, and when her orgasm finally hit, it was longer and more intense than any she'd even felt. It struck her completely dumb even while her heart rocketed out of her chest. She could only hold onto the only steady thing she had: Sirius. She was vaguely aware of arms and legs that weren't connected to her trembling violently, and then a parallel shudder running through him, though his was accompanied with a long, low groan of her name. She felt white heat fill her as he came, and then had to squeeze her eyes shut again when aftershocks came, rippling through her bones.

Sirius wrapped his arms around her and pressed kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and her mouth. She suddenly felt…precious. Cherished. Letting go of her hands, he moved behind her, one arm curled around her waist and the other supporting her head. And then he did something that, if anyone had told her a year ago that Sirius Black would be doing, she would have burst into giggles. He cuddled.

Now was not a year ago though, and Helena wasn't giggling, she was a little bit unsettled. Sleeping together at every opportunity was one thing, and yes they spent a lot of time together, but he'd never done that before. Tender, affectionate gestures were reserved exclusively for Christmas and birthdays. And here he was having just—she had no other word term for it—made love to her, and now he wanted to hold her in his arms? What in blue bloody hell was going on?

He shifted a little behind her, pulling her slightly closer. Helena swallowed, suddenly quite afraid for reasons she couldn't name. Quickly, she rolled out of bed and got up, reaching for her robe on the chair by the window.

"Phew, I needed that!" she said as cheerfully as possible, like she wasn't having her emotions shaken. "Drink?" she tossed casually over her shoulder.

"Um, yeah, okay."

She winced at his bewildered tone but didn't turn around, instead going downstairs with her heart pounding—just ever so slightly. When she got the drinks, she went back upstairs again but crossed to her desk, pulling the first roll of parchment she found on it over to her and putting herself into an attitude of studied concentration.

Sirius propped himself up on his elbow, frowning. "Aren't you coming back to bed?"

She shook her head. "I want to run over my arguments for the meeting with Head of Admissions tomorrow."

It wasn't a lie—the morning after she was going to St Mungo's for ten a.m., to try and convince them to reverse her earlier _insane _choice to turn down the Junior Healer place they'd offered her. She still had no idea what on earth could have possessed her to do that, but she definitely had: at her request they'd sent her a copy of the letter she'd sent them, and it was her handwriting alright.

Sirius got out of bed and joined her over by the desk. He kissed the back of her shoulder. "So what are your arguments?"

"Namely that I wasn't of sound mind when I made the decision. Lily's agreed to be a character witness for me, and from what you've said…I couldn't really have been less myself, could I?"

He shook his head. "Good way to put it."

"And I may not know what caused it, but that works in my favour. It's literally been wiped out. I'm now in a practical frame of mind, extremely receptive to learning, and my NEWT results prove I'm more than capable. And this is my life's ambition. The idea that I'd just give it up is ridiculous. It'd be like _you_ ending up in Azkaban or something."

He snorted. "They've allowed the use of Unforgiveables on Death Eaters, Hellfire."

"Yeah…"

"You don't agree?"

"Well, I trust people like you and James; I know you won't abuse it. But you have to admit it _could _easily be abused. I don't see anything wrong with legalising the killing curse for aurors but not the other two. I mean, what's the Crutiatus curse going to give you?"

"Information," he answered. "Locations or identities. You won't be criticising it if it leads to Voldemort's capture or death will you?"

She shook her head. "Sirius, I'd think you'd know better than to expect truth to come from torture. And the idea of the Imperius curse is just terrifying."

"Moody reckons it should be taught in schools," he told her. "He thinks no one should be allowed to leave Hogwarts without the ability to throw it off."

"D'you think he could?" Helena joked.

"He could probably throw off all three of them at once."

"Hero-worship much? Calm down, Padfoot, you can't replace him yet, he's not that close to retirement."

Sirius grinned, but shook his head. "No, I wouldn't want to replace him. I can't imagine being that paranoid—the bloke doesn't have friends, a wife—I mean, he's pretty clear he trusts Dumbledore, but he's probably the only person."

"That's quite sad." She looked up, suddenly a bit worried. "You're not going to get like that, are you?"

He laughed. "You know me, Hellfire. I'm not one for solitude."

"Good." She sighed. "How's the house-hunting going?"

"Not well. Most places want one month's rent in advance, which just isn't going to happen. And I know they'd never say it, but I'm intruding on the Potters now. Especially with Mr Potter being ill."

"Ill?"

"Yeah, he's really not well. They're not sure what the problem is yet, but I just think having a non-family member in the house has to be a bit of a strain for them."

"Well...why don't you move in here?" she asked, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to move in with you?"

"Sirius, you can't live in a tent for the rest of your life—it'll be another month before your first wage comes in, and until then you can't afford anywhere. I'm offering, because of the sheer depth of my natural magnanimity, to let you live with me, rent-free. We'll move up from friends with benefits to housemates with benefits."

"Alright then, sure."

"Cool. Keep in mind, though, that it's temporary. I'm not having you squatting at mine forever."

"Squatting? What happened it being an invitation?"

"I forgot how revolting you are."

"It's a wonder you let me touch you."

"It is, isn't it? You'd better not try again though."

They grinned at each other for half a second before he leapt for her—and his arms closed around thin air instead of a laughing woman. The woman was still laughing, she was just laughing on the other side of the room. "Apparating is definitely not allowed."

"When did we decide that?"

He still managed to catch her though, and pull her back to the bed.

* * *

"Don't look so nervous," Lily whispered to her. "You'll be fine."

Helena nodded, but smoothed down her robes anyway, gnawing on her bottom lip. "What if-"

"Helena. Stop it."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"They are _not _going to say no. How could they, with four O's and an E in your NEWTs?"

_All too easily_, Helena thought, but didn't voice it. At this point Lily would probably end up slapping some sense into her—not that she was doubtful of that solution working, but having one scarlet cheek would probably not help in her argument that she was now a sensible candidate. The two young witches were waiting outside the office of the Admissions Officer for St Mungo's, waiting to be shown in so that Helena could plead her case. When the door opened, the woman who stood there immediately reminded Helena of Professor McGonagall. It didn't help her nerves.

"Helena Malfoy? I'm Susannah O'Shaunessy."

She was given a perfunctory handshake and then introduced her friend. "This is Lily Evans; we went to Hogwarts together and she'd due to start as a Junior Healer in July. She's my character witness, if you require one."

"Thoughtful," O'Shaunessy remarked. "Well, come inside. Miss Evans, we'll call you if we need you."

She indicated a seat to Helena and sat next to her rather than across her desk. "I understand you wish to reverse your decision to decline the place you were offered."

"Yes."

"You realise this is highly unusual. Normally you would be required to apply again for next year."

"I'm aware of that," Helena nodded, "and I very much appreciate you seeing me."

"Now you may tell me what you want."

"Well, I want you to admit me for the post I gave up." She gave a self-conscious smile. "I realise how ridiculous that sounds, but as I'm sure you're aware, I was recently treated at this hospital for a combined memory charm-stunner. It appears the Death Eater who cursed me is particularly inept at Charms, because she only managed to wipe out the last six months, rather than destroy my identity altogether. In those six months, I appeared to have undergone some kind of personality shift, during which-"

"-You declined your place here."

'Yes. And I also tried-"

"-to commit suicide, I know. The school nurse at Hogwarts was good enough to send me your medical records when I requested them. So what is your argument?"

"That I was clearly not of sound mind when I declined the offer. Becoming a healer is a life's ambition for me. I've never wanted to be an auror, or a teacher, or go into administration of law enforcement or politics. Healing is the only thing I've wanted to do since I was in third year. Unless there was something mentally wrong with me, I would never have turned down the opportunity."

"I see you have excellent NEWT results," O'Shaunessy remarked, looking over her glasses. "That bodes well."

"Thank you."

O'Shaunessy sighed, and then put the papers down, pushed her glasses up and folded her hands. "Ordinarily this would be completely out of the question, you realise. In fact were it not for the fact that we have an unusually low number of applicants this year, I would still reject your application."

"So does that mean I'm admitted?" Helena asked, struggling to contain the smile that threatened to burst across her face.

"Yes. But know that I will be watching you most carefully. Whatever this mental instability was, if you show the slightest hint of it from now on, you will be pronounced unsuitable for further study and you will be expelled from healer training. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Prof- Yes."

When she opened the door, Lily looked terrified, hands to her mouth. She stood. "Well?"

"She let me in! I'm going to be studying with you!" Helena trilled.

Lily gave a little skip and clapped. "Yes! I knew it, I knew they couldn't keep you out!" She took Helena's hands and almost forced her into a little dance, though thankfully she managed to keep it to just one full spin around. Still holding her hand, Lily turned and almost dragged her out of the hospital. "Come on, we're going to James'. There's a celebration party waiting for you!"

"A celeb- But, Lily, I didn't know until thirty seconds ago that I was being let in!"

"Well it was obvious!"

The celebration was basically a big dinner that Mrs Potter had cooked her socks off preparing, partly for Helena's good news and partly because Sirius now had somewhere else to live. They ate in the garden, the summer air warm and calming. James' father was absent, and when asked the younger Potter just gave a somewhat weak smile and said, "He's in hospital." Seeing that he obviously didn't want to talk about it, Helena backed off.

Once the lasagne, garlic bread and salad had been polished off, Mrs Potter excused herself, leaving them to help themselves to strawberries and Cornish clotted cream. When they were all too full to move, Sirius did something insane, and suggested Quidditch. Of course James had no problem agreeing to that—with an even more alarming degree of enthusiasm than he usually did—and set about physically placing Lily on a broom. The glare on Helena's face stopped him from trying the same thing with her.

"I'll referee."

"But you don't know the first thing about the rules," Padfoot pointed out.

"Yeah, but I can do it from the ground, where I can't fall off anything."

The light lasted until almost ten p.m., but they were still going once pale pink and gold had been replaced by navy blue and starlight, simply because James hadn't caught the snitch yet. There was a very good reason for that—he wasn't playing seeker, as for some reason that he wasn't explaining, he wanted Lily to fill that role. Finally though, as the crescent moon broke through, she got it. Sirius was incredibly relieved, Helena had long since got a chair for herself and had been topping up her glass of wine for the last couple of hours quite happily. James though, still seemed incredibly nervous. Once they'd landed on the ground again, Lily held the snitch out to him.

He shook his head and swallowed hard. "Open it."

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Open it."

"…how?"

"You have to kiss it," he explained a bit sheepishly.

Looking increasingly dubious, Lily did so, and the snitch popped open. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened almost comically and she drew in a huge gasp. Then her eyes flew to James' face. "Are- Is this- _James-_!"

Helena and Sirius exchanged a puzzled look, but it all became very clear when James took the snitch carefully from Lily, and dropped to one knee. Out of the snitch, he took an emerald ring. "I know it seems quick," he said, eyes fixed on Lily, "but I love you, Lily Evans. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And life's too short to be with a woman as amazing as you, and not tell the whole world. So: will you marry me?"

Helena glanced at Padfoot, who looked as surprised (but delighted) as she felt. He shook his head at her and mouthed, _He didn't say a word. _Neither Lily nor James noticed the motion; they only had eyes for each other. The rest of the world could have ceased to exist and Helena was sure it would go unnoticed.

Lily nodded and took her hands away from her mouth. "Yes," she said. Then a massive grin spread over her face. "Yes, yes, yes!"

With a joyful laugh, James took her hand and slid the ring onto it. Then Lily was in his arms, kissing the living daylights out of him. All Helena and Sirius could do was offer congratulations—which quite rightly were utterly ignored for several minutes.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! ****Right, enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter Seventeen**

While Helena was incredibly happy and relieved that St Mungo's had agreed to let her back in, healing was proving to be exhausting. Learning the spells was fascinating, the potions likewise, but she never seemed to stop. Training comprised of two days a week in the hospital's seminar/lecture theatre, sat with Lily listening avidly to one of the senior consultant healers speak at length about animal bites, or mental health, or the best way to treat an entrail-expelling curse victim (the answer to that one turned out to be: quickly). The first year junior healers were expected to have a through grounding in all elements of magical medicine, which would be followed by a three-month rotation in each one of the wards. For this year they would be studying creature bites and animal attacks, something Helena was particularly interested in. Into this category fell animagus transformations which had gone wrong—she quickly learnt these cases were even more grotesque than the pictures in the books at Hogwarts. Still, she was good at Transfiguration, and proved to be skilled at taking people back to their human forms. A few, sadly, would never be quite the same again—she had had one particularly unfortunate patient who had been sent home covered in bright green scales, but other than that she had a pretty high success rate.

Less funny were those witches and wizards who came in with serious injuries. Considering how rare they were supposed to be, she saw an awful lot of dragon bites and burns in the first month or so. It didn't make sense to her, until Lily looked it up; July to September was dragon mating season. All of the male Welsh Greens were rampaging around the Brecon Beacons in high temper, biting or burning anything that wasn't a female Welsh Green, which unfortunately meant a lot of dragon watchers were in a lot of danger.

"It's a bit like muggle bird watchers," Lily remarked. "They're called twitchers."

"Really?"

"Mmmm. I was wondering what the dragon watchers are called."

Helena quirked a scornful eyebrow. "Idiots."

The man whose upper leg she was dousing with anti-toxin—at this time of year the males excreted a toxin that made the females sleepy and docile, but would kill any other animal—gave her a glare, which she returned unrepentantly. Once she'd finished swabbed the puncture marks with ultraviolet liquid, she stepped aside for Lily to finish bandaging him him. Lighting her wand, Helena shone the tip into his eyes, checking that his irises were now returning to their normal colour. They were, the yellow draining away to be replaced by brown.

"Tongue."

He stuck it out, and the black warts were also already gone. The Head Healer on the ward tapped Helena on the shoulder. Recognising the cue to get out of the way, Helena did so, stepping aside to let Octavia Fantine look over her patient. She did the same checks Helena just had, and looked over Lily's bandages before giving an approving nod.

"Your anti-toxin was obviously brewed correctly, Helena, well done. And Lily, this knot is fine, but in future you might find a reef knot might hold for longer."

They both nodded, and Octavia looked at her watch, then around the ward. It was relatively empty tonight. "I think you've done enough for today—I'll see you on Friday."

Lily beamed, looking forward to the prospect of two days off. "Oh thank you, Octavia."

She nodded. "Goodnight, girls."

The yawns began almost as soon as they left the ward. They were both exhausted, and it was small wonder. Days began at eight a.m. exactly, either on the ward or in the lecture theatre, and they had half an hour for lunch at one p.m., unless they were on the wards in which case they snatched water and food whenever opportunity presented itself (which was rarely). Days didn't finish until at least six, sometimes seven or eight in the evening. As a result, Helena went almost directly from the hospital to bed, and now existed for her days off. They weren't normally weekends, as healers had to work all hours.

At least she didn't have it as bad as Lily though, since she didn't have a fiancé to spend time with, or a wedding to plan. So far the only thing that had been settled on that score was 'small'. Small, and fairly quick. As James had said when he proposed, there was no point wasting opportunities in times like these, but more personally than that, it sadly didn't look like his father was going to live for much longer. There were few diseases that the muggle and wizarding world shared, but inoperable cancer was one of them. No matter how many times the healers removed tumours from his lungs, they kept growing back. And now the cancer had spread to his bones, liver, heart and brain. It was a matter of weeks now until James no longer had a father. Both he and Lily were adamant that he would be there for their wedding, so it was likely to be in late August or early September.

Thankfully her own love life, as far as it went, still offered all she needed it to: lots of sex and not much else. The strange show of tenderness Sirius had give her a couple of weeks ago hadn't made a reappearance, and Helena wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. Now that they were living together it had become obvious that there was something he wasn't telling her, and that bothered her, but the rest of her life was so hectic that there wasn't room to worry about their relationship. The sex was still unfailingly satisfying for both, of course, but he was proving himself not a bad housemate either. Helena did all the cooking, which on the surface of it might have seemed unfair, except from somewhere she'd developed an amazing level of culinary knowledge and skill. Exactly who had trained her in classical French cuisine she had no idea—the when had obviously happened during the missing six months—but she- _rocked._

That evening, for instance, she'd made canon of lamb with a red wine reduction, dauphinoise potatoes and summer vegetables, which Sirius was finishing off with noises that indicated he wasn't so much eating it as he was…enjoying something else entirely.

Sipping at her wine, Helena shook her head. "Get a _room_, Padfoot."

"I _would _get a room with this dinner," he replied, licking his cutlery.

"You're disgusting."

"You're phenomenal. Seriously, Hellfire, you _rock _at the cooking thing."

She acknowledged that with a gracious nod and gestured to the pans on the stove and in the sink. "Well, then you can _rock _at the washing up thing, can't you?"

"You're a cruel woman, you know that?"

"And your landlady," she reminded him. She stood, stretching. It wasn't late, but she was so exhausted that it didn't really matter. She wished him goodnight and headed upstairs, crawling into bed half an hour later with a long, happy sigh. She was asleep within moments.

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap._

Helena turned over, away from the annoying noise, and snuggled deeper into her pillows.

_Tap, tap, tap. _

Well now it _was _irritating. Louder, as if whatever it was was getting pissed off with _her _for being asleep in her own bed.

_Tap, tap, tap!_

Groaning, she threw back the covers and stumbled over to the window, where the noise was emanating from. She pulled back the curtains, only to blink in surprise. Outside perched on her windowsill was Seraph. She a scroll tied to her leg. Frowning, Helena unlatched the window and slid it up. The owl hopped onto the proffered forearm quickly, and then held still while Helena took the scroll from her. She took Seraph down to the kitchen, pouring some water into a cup and getting some leftover roast chicken out of the fridge for her while Helena read whatever it was she'd brought.

It turned out to be a letter from her mother: short and brief but expressing a longing to see her. Apparently Narcissa had not turned out to be as much a replacement for Helena as she'd hoped, and Veronique wanted to meet up and begin the process of reconciliation. Even more surprising was the fact that Helena found she was seriously considering it. She'd no desire to be welcomed back into the suffocating bosom of her family, but would seeing her mother again be really so terrible?

"Yes," Sirius said flatly when she told him about the letter. "It's been seven months, Hellfire, you've clearly forgotten how much you hate her."

She glared. "I realise I've forgotten a lot over the last six months, Padfoot, but I don't think that's one of them. I hate my brother and I hate my father, but aside from the odd catty comment, Mother didn't do much to me except get drunk all the time, and that I can handle."

His eyebrows got lost in his hairline they rose that high. "You're seriously telling me you miss her?"

"No. But neither would it be the worst thing in the world to see her again. Look, she says that thing about… 'I now understand how trapped you must have been feeling; without your presence the house has become quite dreary and devoid of life. Your father and brother have become utterly tiresome and there is little pleasurable female company to be found in your sister-in-law'. That actually sounds like she might be coming to her senses!"

"Yeah, _sounds _like it—but I bet you anything she just wants to get you onside and then you'll find that she's got some marriage lined up for you."

"Then I'll leave and never go back again, but on the off-chance she _isn't_…"

"It's a bad idea," he said flatly.

She sighed. "You're probably right."

"Yes I am. Now come back to bed."

She laughed and let the scroll roll shut. "That's your solution to everything."

He moved behind her, hands on her waist and kissing up her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access with a long sigh. "It's a cure-all," he breathed lowly into her ear.

She turned to face him. "You should know there's no such thing."

"I'll let you be the judge of that."

He kissed her, burying his fingers in her hair, tongue questing for hers. Helena put her hands on his, walking them back to the bed. She flicked the book on the mattress out of the way; it was the kama sutra, a book that she'd decided she owed a _lot_. Mentally, she flicked through its pages and came up with one that put an instant grin on her face. They faced each other, both on their knees. Helena leaned forward and kissed him again, trapping his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking lightly. One hand gripped his shoulder to keep him where he was while her other hand moved down over his chest, stomach to finally curl around his cock, pumping up and down slowly. He groaned into her mouth, his hands doing much the same; one resting on her hip while the fingers of his right hand went down to circle her clit, thrumming so lightly it almost drove her mad, the electrifying sensation there one moment and gone the next. When he moved down to her dripping core, she drew in a sharp breath, her own fingers tightening just slightly on him. Their eyes locked, each of them refusing to look away. Helena was now relying almost entirely on him to keep from slumping over. All her strength seemed to have deserted her as Sirius' thumb suddenly rubbed hard at her clit, two fingers sliding rapidly in and out of her, hitting her g-spot. She broke, biting her bottom lip hard and shuddering, leaning on him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her hair while she tried to recover.

However—the best thing in the world about being a woman was the capacity for multiple orgasms. She put her hands on his hips, pulled him close enough so that the hot length of his cock lay across her stomach. "Lift me," she whispered.

He did so, and they both groaned loudly as he dropped her slowly onto his cock. She slid down until her buttocks rested on his thighs, the balls of her feel still on the mattress behind him. She slid one of his hands up to her shoulder, pushed the other down to grip her ankle. Then she leaned backward to rest her head on the bed. Then she rocked her hips. Sirius wasn't slow to catch on, and matched her. They started slow, easing into the rhythm and harmonising their movements. Each thrust of his hips caused a slow shock of pleasure to ripple through her. Despite her orgasm of a few minutes earlier, it did not take long for the crest to build once more in her as they went faster and faster, bodies perfectly matched. Their speed increased until both of them were breathing hard, the bedroom filling with the noises of their pleasure. With fingers clenching hard on her skin, her name left his mouth in a cry of pleasure, and Sirius climaxed. As she felt white heat erupted inside her, Helena followed in a shock of delicious pleasure. Her legs slowly relaxed down, and Sirius moved to lie beside her, his breath coming in pants.

"Wow."

She grinned, and was glad when he made no move to embrace or kiss her. One of the reasons she'd chosen that position was that it limited physical contact, physical intimacy. It wasn't the physical closeness itself that scared her, if scared was the right word, just its connotations. And even then, with anyone else she could have handled sex becoming more—with Sirius there was an air of fragility that she couldn't dispel. She wasn't stupid, and she was well aware that they had potential for…well, greatness. Or utter and complete disaster. So far, she'd convinced herself that her logic would bear up under scrutiny because she knew she wasn't the only one holding back. He was hiding something from her too, after all.

* * *

Of course, she reminded herself the day after, now she was hiding two things from him. She was at Florean Fortescue's in Diagon Alley, awaiting the arrival of her mother. Somewhere not alcohol-centric had seemed like a good idea, and amazingly it had been accepted. They were due to meet at one, and Helena couldn't stop checking her watch. It was two minutes past the hour now—and she wanted to leave. Why had she even bothered? She didn't want to hear anything Veronique had to say; she hadn't when she'd left, after all. So why was she here? Why hadn't she listened to her friends?

"Ah, Helena, darling!"

Too late now.

Swallowing back her hesitation, she stood in time to receive two kisses on each cheek. She was stunned, and even more so when her mother took her face between her hands and looked at her with a concerned expression. "You're looking rather too pale, my dear."

Helena stared. "_Too_ pale?" When was the last time any Malfoy had looked _too _pale?

"Have you been eating properly? I don't need to have Dobby send you a care package?"

"Um, no. I've been eating fine…"

"Glad to hear it. Oh, darling, I've missed you." Her mother's expression moved into a kind of embarrassed concern. "I should not have let you go at New Year."

"Doubt you'd have been able to stop me, Mother," Helena said coolly, disengaging her hands from Veronique's.

"No, I meant I should not have let you go in such bad blood. The manor's been quite empty without you. How have you been getting on? I persuaded your father to give you the annuity but he refused to give you a decent allowance. Surviving on a pittance must be so difficult-"

"It's not a pittance," Helena shook her head, "I've been able to buy a house with it, but- Mother, are you saying that _you _persuaded Father to give me the money? Why?"

"Helena," Veronique said, her voice regaining some of its old sharpness, "do not believe that I would allow my only…"

Here her voice stuck, as though a lump had developed in her throat and couldn't be passed. "Daughter?" Helena prompted.

Veronique's voice picked up like a record player whose needled had slipped. She seemed not to notice that Helena had spoken. "…daughter to survive the world alone! I realise we have not always been the easiest of friends, but I am still your…"

Helena raised an eyebrow. "Mother?"

"…mother, please do not think I have forgotten that."

"I don't think you've forgotten it. I just didn't think you ever liked that fact."

"It is not a question of _liking_," her mother said firmly. "It simply _is_."

Not quite sure that was comforting, Helena nodded and gestured at the table behind her. "Would you like to sit down, Mother, have some tea?"

"Not yet. Shall we walk for a while, darling? And then you can show me this house of yours."

"Um, I can?"

That was a little more than she'd bargained for. It was one thing to be seeing her mother again, another thing entirely to be showing her around her house. She really didn't _want _her in her house. …at least not until she was sure everything was tidy and that she'd picked up the trail of she and Sirius' clothing between the front door and her bedroom. And her mother wasn't in the mood to listen, which she shouldn't have been surprised at. Nor should she have been surprised at the amount of utter irritation that inspired in her. She could just imagine the smug expression on Sirius' face when she told him he'd been right, and that she shouldn't have agreed to this.

Veronique hooked her arm through Helena's and began meandering down the street. "Have you started at your healing post, dear?"

Helena looked at her mother as though she'd grown two heads. Never, not once in her entire memory—which admittedly was six months shorter than it should be—had her mother ever called her by any kind of endearment. And now her she was dishing out the 'darlings' and the 'dears' like they were going out of fashion. What in Merlin's name was going on?

"Helena?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I started a few weeks ago. We're on the animal bites ward at the moment."

"Good, good—and impressing your superiors, I trust?"

"I hope so. The head healer is Octa-"

"Oh, isn't that a marvellous set of robes!" her mother suddenly said, pulling her to a halt outside Madame Malkin's. The robes in question were a deep, royal purple, the sleeves and collar dusted with tiny golden stars. She moved Helena in front of the window next to the robes, apparently comparing her colouring with the robes.

"Do you like them?"

Helena nodded. They were beautiful, but they were absolutely different than anything her mother had ever looked at. "I'm surprised you do."

"Well, I'm only thinking for you, darling, only for you."

Again, her arm was ceased and she was dragged into the shop before she could protest. She managed to literally dig her heels in a few feet in and pull her mother to a standstill. "Mother, I don't want you to buy them for me. Otherwise there was no point in giving me an annuity."

"Please. To let me make amends."

"Mother, I don't need you to buy me things to make amends," she explained. "You can't buy me back."

"What do you mean?"

Helena sighed. Of course she wouldn't understand. No one in this family understood the concept that there was more to life than collecting gold, so why would her mother get that all she actually needed from her was to be her _mother_? "I mean I just…I don't _want _you to buy me things. It's not going to be like waving a wand—there is no _magic _solution to this mess."

Veronique nodded. "I see. Yes, that makes sense. Well, let me buy you them anyway."

"Mother-"

"Please. As a graduation present. I haven't told you how pr- prou-"

"Proud?" Helena supplied doubtfully.

"Proud I am of you."

Helena looked again at the robes. They really were _very _nice. And she did like purple. "Alright. Thank you, Mother."

It backfired spectacularly: although Veronique showered her with compliments once she tried the set on, and then bought her matching shoes, she then decided that she could not do without some matching jewellery. Happily, she knew a 'divine' little shop just down the street which would furnish her neck and wrists perfectly.

Helena was not pleased. "Mother, enough. If all you need is someone to buy things for, I suggest you go and seek out Narcissa."

"Come, Helena, I'm only doing this so that the outfit will be complete. Surely you understand that."

"No, I don't! I have other jewellery at home that will work just fine. _Stop_ trying to buy me, for the last time!"

Veronique gave a short, sharp, familiar sigh. "Helena, I have explained how plainly that is not the case. Cease being tiresome and come."

"I'm not coming, Mother."

"Suit yourself."

As was her mother going to suit herself, apparently; turning her back on Helena, she moved a little way down Diagon Alley and then moved down Knockturn Alley. Still in the sunlight of the _good _street, Helena shook her head. She certainly wasn't going after her, not down there. If Veronique wanted to go into areas where questionable wizards lurked, then she could. If she wanted to run the risk of bumping into Death Eaters down there, so what? It wasn't her responsibility to go after her. If she wanted to get hurt or killed then-

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Helena muttered, going after her mother.

Within five minutes, she was seriously regretting it. And then seriously in trouble, _very _rapidly.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, and thank you too to my beta, CC :) **

**Chapter Eighteen**

Knockturn Alley was, as always, dark, narrow and dirty. And just being down there set Helena's nerves on edge. Equally disconcerting was the fact that she couldn't see her mother anywhere. Granted, she'd had about half a minute to get ahead of her, but…

A hag moved past her, close enough to make Helena gag on the stench of raw liver which emanated from it. She got a flash of pointed teeth in a kind of smile, but thankfully the hag did not stop, and continued past her. The alley curved around in a long corner, so Helena couldn't see right to the end of the row of shops. It occurred to her that maybe Veronique had simply disapparated back to Wiltshire, and that she was wasting her time. But until she was definitely sure, she wasn't going to just turn around and leave. Even if all the hair at the back of her neck was now standing on end, and a cold shiver was crawling all over her skin. Foreboding.

Swallowing her unease, Helena checked through all the windows of the shops to make sure her mother wasn't in there, or at least the ones which weren't blacked out. _Jewellery shop? _she questioned mentally, _How is there a _jewellery _shop down here? _She did not go into Borgin and Burkes. That she did remember. Finally reaching the end of the curve, Helena was able to see to the dirty brick wall that marked the end of Knockturn Alley. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, and Helena no longer had the nerve to check in all the remaining shops. Foreboding had now turned into a feeling of certainty—if she stayed in this tiny street any longer then something bad _was _going to happen.

Walking very quickly, she turned on her heel and sped back up toward Diagon Alley. She didn't make it. About fifteen feet from sunlight and safety, her route was blocked by three people. Two of them were hooded and masked. The one who wasn't was unfortunately very familiar to her. And while normally she was contemptuous of her brother—now he looked outright frightening.

Still, she attempted to recover some of her composure, and only regarded him coolly. "Lucius."

He smiled with chilling confidence. "Hello, little sister."

"What do you want?" she demanded, surreptitiously trying to back away.

Lucius only laughed. "Going somewhere?"

She looked over her shoulder; three more Death Eaters were now closing in on her. She could apparate away still. None of them had their wands out yet, apart from Lucius. And she was fairly confident she could beat him in a duel, if she had to. "Bellatrix's spell not enough for you?"

"That was not of the Dark Lord's design, and rest assured, dear Bella has been punished for it," he answered smoothly.

"So are you here to kill me?"

"Hardly. I'm here to save you."

She snorted. "From what? A life spent _obeying _the law?"

An itching, burning from her ankle suddenly distracted her attention from the situation at hand. She moved her foot slightly, but the itching didn't go away. In fact it got worse, more insistent. But she soon forgot about the ankle. Because suddenly standing behind Lucius and others was none other than Alastor Moody.

* * *

Sirius had never thought, in those imaginings of being an auror, that there would ever be any boring moments. It was all going to be investigating, following leads, tracking Death Eaters down to their lairs and then haring after them—it was about defeating Voldemort, no matter what it took.

But no. Or at least not at the moment. Studying Concealment and Disguise _should _be easy for him; he could literally change his form into the most innocent of animals, except that would mean being registered as an animagus…which kind of defeated the point. Moody was normally a 'learning by doing' sort of mentor, so moments like this were admittedly rare, but now that a period of silent-ish study had presented itself, it had taken Sirius right back to Hogwarts and stifling classrooms.

They were ostensibly revising for the upcoming test, but the atmosphere in the Auror Office was much too tense for that. The fully qualified aurors had tiny cubicles each, too small for any real work to get done, but they managed to pack ridiculous amounts of things into them. Sirius planned on putting an Undetectable Expansion charm on his, when he finally got one. Every auror was poring over reports of some kind or another, or compiling lists of potential Death Eaters. Something else he wanted to do—he was fairly certain that they wouldn't have let him in if they suspected him, but Helena was another story. And illegal it might be, but if he found her name anywhere, he was scratching it out right then and there.

A shadow fell over his page, and Moody grunted over his shoulder. "Humph! Polyjuice potion. No one's ever thought of _that _before. You, Shacklebolt—you have something more original, I trust?"

"I'm looking at Disillusionment Charms," the young black wizard answered.

Moody nodded in a fashion that Sirius had come to recognise as approving; the man never smiled. "Potter?"

"Invisibility spells and artefacts."

Moody grunted out a laugh. "You have one of those lying around, Potter, and you'll-"

Suddenly he cut off, eyes narrowing. In a swift move that made everyone jump, he whipped out his wand. "Enough books now, someone's in trouble, follow me. Knockturn Alley."

Without further ado, he spun on the spot and with a _crack_, disapparated. There was a moment of stunned stillness, and then they all scrambled into action. No one asked questions, though Sirius' head was brimming with them. They could wait—when and where Moody went, everyone else followed.

"Knockturn Alley, he said?" James asked.

"Yeah."

Within moments, three aurors and three student-aurors were standing in Knockturn Alley. Along with six Death Eaters and one heart-stoppingly familiar witch. Helena's eyes found his face immediately, relief lighting her face. He didn't share it, instead feeling unbelievable anger fill him. What the _fuck _was she doing down here, of all places?

The only unmasked Death Eater gave a little snarl of impatience and nodded at the three standing behind Helena. "Get her to the Dark Lord."

_What? _

Helena had time for a shocked gasp; the Death Eaters had time for less than that before they were bombarded with spells from every direction. They wasted no time counterattacking though, and Sirius took the opportunity to throw himself at Helena and tackle her into a relatively safe doorway. She didn't seem to appreciate it.

"Ow! Merlin's beard, Padfoot, there's a wall there!"

"Shut up!" he snapped. "Why are you down here, Helena?"

"I followed Mother-"

"This the same mother whose son is now trying to kidnap you? Stay here."

"But-"

He gripped her wrist, hard enough so that his knuckles turned white. "Stay. _Here_."

Without waiting for her to object again—because he knew the bloody woman would—he charged back into the fight. He fired off several curses at once, aiming most of them at Malfoy. A few of them got through, though not the really vicious ones. Fairly soon the Death Eater was bleeding from his cut on his forehead, silver-blond hair matted with red fluid, and he was being forced backward, up to Diagon Alley. Sirius knew he'd been hit too though; there was a nagging pain somewhere around his midriff that he didn't want to look at in case it was bad, and his ears were ringing with all the shouting of spells going on in the narrow street. With a trip jinx, he sent Malfoy sprawling for just a second, turning to help his allies just in time to see a masked Death Eater behind James, wand raised.

"Prongs, watch out-"

The Death Eater was blasted off his feet with a jet of red light—Helena, apparently and predictably ignoring what he'd told her. Well, at least he knew she could reasonably take care of herself. Indeed, she was doing that now, leaping to the aid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, someone as far as he knew, she'd never before met. Unfortunately Helena's minor triumph over that Death Eater was followed by another blow for the good guys as Moody took a curse in the face. He fell, unconscious, to the ground. The only healer in the group hadn't noticed, and was instead looking at Sirius.

Her mouth moved, but he couldn't hear what she'd said. "What?"

Malfoy regained his feet, and repaid the favour by blasting Sirius into an awkward somersault. He landed badly, feeling a wrenching pain in his shoulder. When he shoved himself into a semi-sitting position that hurt like the blazes, Malfoy was in the act of disapparating, apparently unable to stem the wave of fury emanating from his sister. Helena was advancing toward him firing curse after curse

Lowering her wand, Helena ran over to Sirius. "Don't say it," she said, pulling him up with a groan from both of them.

"What?"

"'I told you so'."

He managed a grin despite the pain he was in. "I won't." They ducked as a spell hit several feet above their heads and the bricks crumbled into dust. "But I did bloody tell you."

"Shut up."

Reaching relative safety, Helena sat him down and opened the top buttons of his shirt, exposing his shoulder. "It's dislocated."

"And you can fix that, right?"

"Yeah. But not with magic. _Anasthæsion._"

She poked his skin with her wand, and the pain disappeared. Then she put one hand on his side, grabbed his wrist firmly with the other, and pulled, hard. He was glad that he couldn't feel it, because the sound of it was grisly enough to deal with. A sickening, crunching kind of squelch. But at least he could move it again. He tried to get up, but was stopped by a sharp gasp of pain from his abdomen.

Helena held him down and opened the rest of his shirt.

The corner of his mouth curled up in a half-grin. "This really the place, Hellfire?"

She spared half a second to throw him a glare before she looked at the damage. It was a puncture wound, long and thin with jagged edges. Helena assessed for organ damage, and satisfied that there was none, she sealed the cut. "Better?"

He nodded. "Thanks."

James' voice interrupted them, sounding somewhat frantic. "Helena, get over here, Moody's hurt!"

They looked over; Prongs was crouched by a now-conscious Moody, propping him up against the wall with a red-soaked handkerchief pressed to his eye. Helena and Sirius exchanged a glance to coordinate themselves, then Helena launched herself across the alley while Sirius covered her. There was now only one Death Eater still standing—the others had either fled or were unconscious and bound. He didn't last long against Sirius, Shacklebolt and the aurors before he, too, was brought down. Once he was, Sirius gravitated automatically back to Helena.

"How is he?"

She ignored him, instead speaking to Moody. "Your eye's completely gone, I'm sorry. I have to stop the bleeding now. I have to cauterize it."

"Then do it."

"It's going to hurt."

"Any more than it already fuckin' does?"

Helena didn't say anything more, just raised her wand and whispered, "_Acenda_." A blue-white flame sprang to life at its tip. Swallowing hard, Helena raised it to the ruined mess of his eye-socket. Moody, to his credit, did not flinch once. It was all Sirius could do was hold onto his stomach watching her work. Finally though, she was done.

"We need to get him to the hospital. Moody, do you need to do Side-Along-"

"Don't be ridiculous, girl."

Despite his curt reply, he still landed badly once they got to St Mungo's, and to keep him from falling, both James and Sirius had to steady him. Within seconds he'd been whipped away by about half a dozen healers, Helena going with them. As soon as she was out of earshot, Kingsley turned to James and Sirius.

"Did you hear what I did?"

James nodded grimly. "'Get her to the Dark Lord'."

"Why, though? Do you think she could be a turn-coat? She was a Death Eater and switched sides?"

"No," was the flat reply.

"But it has to be a possibility. And if she _is, _then the Auror Office is going to want to talk to her. Or the Wizengamot."

"She _isn't_," Sirius growled. "You've got no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Look, I know she's a friend of yours but she fits the bill-"

"Sirius is right, Shacklebolt," James said, looking annoyed but a little more rational. "And besides, I know she isn't. I've checked—no Dark Mark, believe me."

Shacklebolt seemed to be gratified by that, and nodded. But the original problem remained. "Then why would they want her?"

"And how did Moody know she was in trouble? I know he's brilliant but telepathy is not one of the man's talents."

"And what-"

"Hold up, lads," James muttered, looking toward the fireplaces dotted along the wall to their left. "Dumbledore's here."

Indeed he was, his sweeping silver beard glinting under the bright hospital lights. He appeared not to have noticed them, and his expression was harried. James intercepted him. "Professor! Professor, we came in with him, with Moody."

Dumbledore stopped. "And?"

"He's alright—well, he's not alright. He's lost an eye. Helena patched it up-"

"Helena was there?"

"Yes, and that's something else we-"

"Is she alright?"

"Yes, but-"

Dumbledore started moving again, moving his arm in an encompassing movement that meant they were to follow. They did so, trailing him up to the fourth floor of the hospital. Moody was easy to find, as his bed was at the furthest end of the ward, surrounded on three sides by curtains. There were only two healers at it now, with Helena hovering anxiously some feet away. When they got closer, Moody was having a white bandage wound around his head.

Sirius squeezed Helena's hand shoulder as they got to her. "He alright?"

She nodded, turning. "He will be, but- Professor Dumbledore!"

"Helena." He inclined his head to her, and then moved to Moody's bedside.

"What were you saying?" James asked.

"Oh—Moody'll be okay, but I was right about his eye. There's nothing of it left."

Dumbledore turned and beckoned to them, and when they moved forward he spoke to Kingsley. "The healers have stowed Alastor's hipflask somewhere with the rest of his clothes—would you be so kind as to see if you can't find it?"

The young auror-in-training nodded and headed out of the ward. Drawing his wand, Dumbledore pulled the curtains across and put an Impertubable Charm on them. Now in a completely enclosed space, he faced Helena, James, Sirius and Moody, focusing on Helena. "What did they say to you?"

"Um, Lucius was there, and he- He said something about the Memory Charm Bellatrix used on me 'not being of the Dark Lord's design', and- And that the only reason they weren't there to kill me was because he'd _saved _me somehow. I've no idea what he meant by that though."

"He also ordered the others to take her to Voldemort," James said.

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "Did he say why Voldemort wanted you?"

"No." She shivered, and Sirius took her hand. She smiled weakly at him, though she still looked pale. "Do you have any idea why, Professor?"

Dumbledore and Moody exchanged a three-eyed glance before the headmaster spoke again. "I have my theories, but it'll take time to judge which is most likely."

"Alright. One thing I don't understand, Moody," she said suddenly, looking at the auror, "How did you know I needed help? I mean, I'm incredibly relieved you all showed up when you did, because I'd have been fu- doomed, but how? How did you know?"

"How does any member of the Order know when they're needed?" Moody grunted. "Surely Professor Dumbledore here explained that to you?"

"Um, member of _what _Order? Hold on, are you talking about-" She cut herself off, bending to unlatch an anklet from around her foot. It was familiar to Sirius, as most of the time when they were alone, that and her earrings were the only things she did usually wear. She straightened, the chain and pendant dangling from her fingers. "Are you talking about this? My ankle started…I'm not sure, itching, just before you appeared."

"Where'd you get it?" James asked, taking it from her and looking at it closely.

"From me," Dumbledore said, unexpectedly. "You won't remember this, Helena, but a few months ago I inducted you into the Order of the Phoenix. As to what exactly that is, this is not the time or the place. I will explain everything, soon, but at a more secure location."

They could hardly argue with that, and under Dumbledore's instruction none of them went to the Office of Magical Law Enforcement to report what had happened. Instead James went home to his fiancée, and Sirius took Helena home. As soon as she got within the confines of her house, she started shaking. He hugged her, rubbing her back with a feeling of dread settling into his stomach. Her skin was cold, though thankfully not as cold as it had been _that _night. Even the memory was enough to make him angry all over again, but not with her. The last time she'd been this way, this numb fear over something, he'd lost her. _Please, please not again. Please_.

"They didn't," he comforted lowly, knowing what was racing through her mind. "You're safe. You'll always be safe, as long as I'm around."

She nodded, though she didn't stop trembling. "I just- I don't understand why-"

Neither did he, but though he was no less curious to know, he shushed her and led her into the living room, lighting a fire in the huge fireplace. He sat her down on the rug, propping her back against his chest, and wrapping all his limbs around her while she continued to shiver for a little while longer. Finally it stopped, and her breathing slowed, and she turned her head slightly to rest in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Why do you put up with me?" she whispered faintly.

"Something about you letting me live in your house rent-free."

She smiled; a faint, wan, pale smile, but a smile nonetheless. The lead weight sitting on his chest lightened a little. "Thank you," she said. "If you hadn't been there I shudder to think what would have happened." She sighed and fingered the anklet, now back where it had been for the past seven months. "Do you think it's something to do with this? With the 'Order of the Phoenix? Maybe that's why Bellatrix wiped my memory, because I knew something. And that's why Lucius said it wasn't what You-Know-Who wanted, since as soon as she erased it, the knowledge was gone."

"But then what's the point in kidnapping you?"

She shook her head, looking thoughtful. Then her face brightened. "Well think about it—how many people actually know six months of my memory is gone? To anyone else watching, it would look like the spell didn't work at all."

"So of course they would assume you still knew whatever it was."

"Exactly."

"Shit. We need to start spreading that you don't know anything."

"Too late now. It would never be believed. The Death Easters have played their hand. We need to keep _our _cards close to our chests."

It was his turn to shiver. "So what are you saying, that they're going to keep trying?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

He swore. "What could possibly be that important?"

"Only Dumbledore would know."

Dumbledore, it fortunately transpired, was not planning on sitting what he knew for long. That very evening, after they'd had dinner—fish and chips since Helena was in no fit state to cook—an owl arrived, addressed to Sirius and from the headmaster. It was short and to the point; he and James were requested to be at Hogwarts in his study at eight p.m. that evening. Helena was outraged that she hadn't been included in the people who apparently could be trusted, but they both agreed that Dumbledore had his reasons for everything, and that no matter how mad he was, it was equally matched by his wisdom and genius. So, grudgingly, Helena had to make do with a promise secured from Sirius to memorise and report on everything that he said.

Helena also made sure that he wasn't going to be late, so he and James manifested in the fireplace of Dumbledore's study within seconds of each other. The elderly wizard surveyed them from behind his desk. "Please, sit, gentlemen."

They did so. "I'm sorry to tear you from your homes after the day you've had, but there is something important I felt you needed to know."

"You know why they tried to take Helena," James guessed.

"I do. They probably will not try again, but I felt I should warn the two of you that Helena may be at greater risk than most members of the Order."

"Why?"

"Because she is Voldemort's daughter."

There was a stunned silence. Then: "Does she know?" James asked in a hushed voice.

"She did. Ironically, Bellatrix's spell wiped it from her mind."

"How is it even possible? He's not- He's not human, surely?"

"Not now, no," Dumbledore agreed. "But once he was. The 'how' does not really matter; only that he is. I suspect the knowledge means very little to him. By now he knows she is no potential Death Eater, and will give up all interest in her."

James nodded, then glanced at his best friend. Sirius sat still, staring into space with a thunderous expression on his face. "Padfoot?"

"Is this why?" he demanded abruptly of Dumbledore. "Is this why she tried to kill herself? Because _you_ told her who her father was?"

The headmaster's face fell into sadness. "Yes. I thought she deserved the truth."

"Not at that cost! She almost died!"

"Which is why I have not told her again. I deeply regret doing so the first time."

"'Regret'?" Sirius repeated furiously, shooting to his feet. "Is that all you can say? _Regret_?"

James put a hand on his shoulder, unsure if he was actually going to punch the professor, before addressing Dumbledore again. "You're sure he won't come after her again?"

"If he does it will be to kill her. Voldemort will suffer no rivals, and she could be one."

"Fucking _brilliant_," Sirius snarled. "Not only is the world's most evil man her father, but he's also going to try and murder her!"

"We could use a Fidelus charm," James suggested. "But it would involve telling her why it was needed."

"No. No way. You know Helena—she'd never put any of us in danger. She'd just try suicide again."

"So what's the alternative—we keep her in the dark?"

"Damn right. I'm not losing her! It was bad enough the first time-" He cut off, striding over to the fireplace, fists clenching and unclenching until he felt calmer. It didn't work. Everything he'd managed to convince himself hadn't happened assailed his memory. But cast in a new light. Suddenly psycho bitch became a very sad, very lonely girl who'd had no one for half a year.

"Is it also why she withdrew so much? Why she cut us all off?"

James looked down, bit his lip. Dumbledore nodded again, but left the rest of the _why _to Sirius' imagination. Helena didn't have a selfish bone in her body, so she'd done it to either protect them, or because she somehow didn't feel…worthy anymore. He knew her well enough to know exactly what she would have woken up, gone to sleep, telling herself. _Monster_. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Behind him, James was asking questions he no longer had the desire to. All he wanted to do was go home and shake the hell out of Helena. And then possibly do something else with her.

"When did she join the Order of the Phoenix?"

"In May. I needed her help with some magic of Voldemort's, and it was too dangerous to let her come without her induction."

"Alright, what are the qualifications needed for joining?" James asked quickly. Seeing where he was going, Sirius turned back to the desk.

"To be of age and to wish to fight the forces of dark magic—Voldemort in particular."

"Then we're joining," Sirius said instantly, his tone uncompromising.

"Very well. But I need you to understand that it will be extraordinarily dangerous at times. That you may be asked to spy on your co-workers, perhaps even on your friends if you suspect even the barest hint of treachery. In the name of the greater good, you may have to embrace almost as much bad as the people you wish to fight."

Both of them agreed without the need for even a glance at one another. Sirius witnessed the rest of the proceedings like he was pacing up and down within his own mind, impatient and restless. All of this was a means to an end, and he needed to get back to that _end_. Once the teardrop was in his palm, Sirius stowed it carefully into a pocket and flooed back to Kensington. Helena was in the kitchen, up to her elbows in flour, sugar and butter.

She turned with a smile. "I'm baking. Decided it would help calm my-"

Without a word, he moved to her and kissed her fiercely, hands cupping her face. When he pulled away, his eyes were bright. "You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful, the stupidest, the cleverest, most _ridiculous _woman in the world." He kissed her again. "You know that, don't you?"

She blinked. "Um, thanks?"

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to my beta, CC, for the wonderful job. And thank you too, to my dear friend Lord Frieza :) **

**Chapter Nineteen**

Helena made Sirius tell her everything he could about what Dumbledore had said; about when she had become a member of the Order (May) and why (he'd needed her cartography skill), and that both he and James were now part of that same Order. Even though she'd forgotten the original reason, she had apparently re-earned the right to entry by helping Moody. A meeting would be called at an undisclosed location later in the week—more training for all of them. This could possibly be the most important education they would ever receive, after all, so Helena didn't mind.

"But what did he say when you asked why they tried to kidnap me?"

"The same thing he said to you in St Mungo's," Sirius told her. His back was to her as he made them both some cocoa. "Sugar?"

"Two, please."

He stirred it in, and handed it to her, sitting opposite. "What, that's it?" she asked. "Just 'he had theories'?"

"More or less."

"Damn that man sometimes."

"He's just trying to help, Hellfire."

She sighed. "I know. It's just frustrating."

He eyed her over his mug. "You're not frightened anymore, though, are you? You have the Death Eaters after you, and look at you. You're utterly fearless."

She felt a little blush rise to her cheeks. "Well…can't just put my life on hold, can I? I'm not going to give in to bastards like that. And I know you wouldn't expect me to anyway."

He chuckled. "Well _that's _true."

She bid him goodnight and went upstairs, climbing into bed feeling as though the day hadn't really happened at all. Surely she couldn't have actually been the subject of a botched kidnapping attempt, only to be rescued by aurors, and then watched Alastor Moody lose an _eye_, and now… Now she was suddenly in a secret society sworn to fight against Voldemort. Who wanted to kidnap her. Who wanted to question her for information she no longer had access to. Who wanted to do whatever it took to _get _that information.

It was that knowledge that woke her, sweating, shivering and giving little cries of imagined pain and real shock. The darkness around her seemed full of shadows just waiting to form into Death Eaters; the wind outside seemed to hiss her name. Knowing that the images would only hang around longer if she stayed in bed, Helena got up and crossed the landing to the bathroom, washing her face with cold water and glad, for once, of elec- ecel- whatever muggle light was called. It was much brighter and much harsher than candlelight, and easily banished the shadows of her nightmare. Feeling better, though shaky now that all the adrenaline was floating around her body had nowhere to go and nothing to do, she went to the loo before going back to bed. As soon as the light was gone, all the fear returned and the nightmare creatures returned. A faint noise, and her eyes snapped open, she sat up with a jolt. It came again, and she mentally slapped herself. The tree in the garden. It was close enough to her rooms so that she would hear the sound of its branches in the wind. She was being ridiculous.

She still wasn't anywhere near sleep, though, when a scream pierced the night. It was shrill, loud and blood-curdling. It got Helena scrambling out of her bed, her heart thumping painfully. She grabbed her wand off the bedside table and crept over to the window as the scream came again. It was utterly eerie. She pulled back one corner of the curtains and- Laughed at herself. There was a fox standing in the middle of the deserted street, barking and howling for her cubs. Three of them gamboled across the road to meet her. Helena let the curtain drop.

"Stupid girl," she muttered at herself.

Whatever the fox had done though, it had not made her feel better or less at risk. She wasn't going to sleep tonight, and she didn't want to be alone, either. Still clutching tight to her wand and looking fearfully at the walls as though her own house was going to hurt her, she moved downstairs to the next story. The light seeping under Sirius' bedroom door was a very welcome sight. He was awake, so she wouldn't be disturbing him.

He was also, she realised, taking to himself. Pausing at the door in an act of shameless eavesdropping—though wasn't this her house?—she listened. "…not discussing, it."

And then bizarrely, James' voice. James was here? "You don't know how she'd react."

"No? I think how she _did _react might be a good indication, Prongs! It is not happening. What did Lily say?"

"She was shocked, of course. Couldn't imagine what the hell Death Eaters could want with Helena."

"None of us could," Sirius said, his tone dark.

Helena knocked softly on the door. "Padfoot?"

"I've got to go. Come in!"

She pushed open the door, seeing him sitting up in bed, but the rest of the room was empty. "Who were you talking to?"

"James." He lifted up what seemed to be a mirror wrapped in cloth. "Communication device we invented a few weeks ago." He put it aside and frowned and her. "What are you doing up? Thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I was," she confessed. "Nightmare."

"About what?"

"Oh, y'know…being tortured and killed by the forces of evil."

"That why you're all sweaty?"

She nodded, suddenly realising what a state she must look. Her hair was plastered to her forehead in ratty strands, and the back of her neck was still wet with cold perspiration. "Probably."

"Want a shower?"

"If you come with me."

She'd been aiming for sexy, beckoning, inviting—it came out completely tiny, demonstrating that the fear still hadn't gone away. Silently, he pushed the covers back and got out, taking her hand. Helena's head felt dizzy with relief and gratitude. She didn't want to be alone at the moment. In the bathroom, he turned the shower on while Helena shed her nightie, then pulled her hair out of the bobble she'd bound it up in.

She stepped gratefully under the hot spray, letting the water replace sweat over her skin and in her hair. Sirius passed her the shampoo, and she washed her hair while he slid the sponge over her body with slow, languorous strokes. Tension seeped from her pores, to be gradually replaced by something else. By the time her hair was clean, arousal tingled through her body. Sirius seemed to have noticed, since the sponge was now going over ground it had already covered—namely her hardening nipples. She rinsed the last of the conditioner from her hair and opened her eyes. Hands on his shoulders, she drew him closer.

"Feel better?"

She nodded, eyes fixed on his. Her heart was still pounding, but no longer from fear. Yesterday could well have been the last time she ever saw him. They didn't eat breakfast together, his day starting an hour later than hers. And she'd deceived him about meeting her mother—the last thing she said to him could have been a lie.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have told you I was going to meet her."

"Yeah, you should've." He sighed. "It was too close."

"I know."

She hugged him tightly, guilt washing over her in the same way as the water was. When she pulled back slightly, he gently placed his mouth over hers. It was different from any other kiss they'd shared. It was just a kiss for the sake of a kiss. He held her delicately both hands on her back while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She kissed him trying to memorise his taste; slightly minty from toothpaste, making her mouth tingle when their tongues met. His teeth nibbled at her lips, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest when she shivered. She counterattacked by sliding her hand down his wet body, trailing her fingertips to his cock. It responded quite magnificently to her touch. The tiles were cool when he lifted her against them, but pleasantly so. She wrapped her legs around his hips as his hands slipped down to cup her arse, supporting her fully while he pushed into her. He buried his mouth in her neck when she pulled her mouth away from his to gasp sharply, her teeth biting her bottom lip slightly. Sirius stilled for a moment once he bottomed out. Helena let out a low, pleasured groan, feeling completely better for the first time since she'd woken from her nightmare. Completely… She leaned her head down and captured his mouth again, nails sliding slowly down his back. He shuddered, then began moving his hips. Breaking off the kiss, they stared at one another, each of them refusing to look away. It was somehow more seductive than any other moment they'd shared before. The pleasure was different too; heavy, languid, waiting. Content to build to fever pitch before it exploded. His thrusts were slow, deep. The ball of pleasure in her core pulsed once, causing her to shudder from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Sirius increased the depth of his movements and with one, two, three- But it faltered. It got caught and it wouldn't- wouldn't-

Still looking deep into her eyes, Sirius kissed her and whispered, "Come. Come with me."

Helena did, whimpers escaping her mouth while her orgasm shook through her. In the confined space, noises of climax from both of them echoed loudly. Blindly, Helena sought his face, his mouth, pressing her lips to every bit of skin she could find while her breath came in hitching gasps which she might have called sobs at any other time. Strength quickly being sapped from his legs, he set her gently on her feet. Helena turned the shower off and stepped into the warm fluffy towel he held open for her.

She leaned forward and kissed him again, running her fingers lightly through his hair. "Thank you."

He took her hand and wordlessly led her down the stairs to his bedroom. She stopped him outside the doorway. "Are you sure you-"

"Will it make you feel better?"

Feeling her cheeks heat, Helena nodded. He smiled and pulled her inside, and she slipped into bed with a sigh. "It's childish, I know. Silly."

He shook his head. "After what's happened to you today? It's not silly, Hellfire." He blew the candle out, then moved further down the bed so his body was parallel to hers.

She reached out to touch his hip and met bare skin; he hadn't bothered with boxers. "I shouldn't be surprised you sleep naked."

He winked. "Gives you easier access." He sobered slightly, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Get some sleep, Helena."

She nodded, but stayed facing him before she closed her eyes. It crossed her mind that maybe she should find the sound of his breathing odd, or strange or too loud—but it was less than five minutes before she was fast asleep, unfamiliar as the sound was.

She woke to another unfamiliar sensation: the heavy, reassuring weight of warm arms around her. One, under her head and curled around to cup her breast, and number two resting on her stomach, on top of her own hand, their fingers laced together. She cracked open her eyes long enough to see the pale grey light of dawn floating through the edges of the curtains. Deciding it wasn't late enough to make her get up, she burrowed a little deeper into the bedclothes and Sirius' arms. He made a happy, sleepy noise and pulled her closer.

_It's a shame we're not allowed to do this more often…_Helena thought sleepily.

She knew why they weren't though. This was because she'd had a nightmare, because she was scared and because he was being sweet. But if they did this all the time, if she got to sleep in the same bed as him all the time, then that would be…a relationship. And neither of them wanted that. Did they?

Helena's eyes snapped open, the lethargy that had filled her limbs suddenly transformed into the urge to move.

She slipped quietly out of Sirius' arms and padded downstairs to the kitchen. The flagstones were cold on her bare feet, but she ignored that and set about making a cup of tea. Just as she put the teabags in to steep in the hot water, a tapping on the window signalled the arrival of her _Daily Prophet_. She put the appropriate number of knuts into the pouch on its leg and carried the paper over the the tea, unrolling it absently and picking up her cup.

As soon as she saw the headline, the tea dropped from nerveless fingers. Scalding liquid cascaded over her bare feet; she didn't notice, too busy staring. Sirius careered into the kitchen twenty seconds later, wand in hand but still stark naked otherwise. "What, what is it, what's the matter?"

She handed over the paper, wide-eyed. "My- My parents…"

"What?"

The picture blazed across the top of the front page: Malfoy Manor cast under a sickly green light. The Dark Mark burned overhead, grinning skull stark and proud.

_**SHOCK DOUBLE MURDER**_

_The bodies of Abraxus Malfoy and his wife of thirty-two years, Veronique, were found in their countryside ancestral home in Wiltshire late last night. Mr and Mrs Malfoy were discovered by their son and daughter-in-law upon their return home from the opera. Upon arrival on the scene, Magical Law Enforcement Officers confirmed the cause of death for both victims. However, in a shocking twist in the tale, it appears only one of them was actually murdered. Mr Malfoy, late of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, was killed by the killing curse, apparently by Death Eaters. However, Mrs Malfoy was found hanging from the chandelier in the ballroom, the _Prophet _can reveal. This information, leaked to us by an anonymous Ministry source, has left MLEOs stumped. The presence of the Dark Mark above Malfoy Manor is irrefutable, and indeed it would seem that at least one of the deceased was murdered by followers of You-Know-Who. However, Mrs Malfoy's case is far more intriguing. Was it suicide? Was it murder? Sadly, the only person who could know is unable to give anyone the true details of what happened. One theory is that Mrs Malfoy was tortured for information before her death and then hanged. Of course, it is possible that she was unable to bear the thought of life without her beloved husband once she discovered his body, and so therefore took her own life. _

_The couple's son and daughter-in-law are said to be 'devastated', but declined to comment. Mr and Mrs Malfoy also have another child; an estranged daughter six years younger than Lucius Malfoy. Helena Malfoy, a recent Hogwarts graduate and current Junior Healer at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_,_ was also unavailable for comment. _

_Until further details of this mysterious and intriguing case emerge, the _Prophet_, like everyone else, is firmly in the dark. However, it may suggest a disturbing new trend in Death Eater behaviour, and the revelations will surely be of great concern to many pureblood families up and down the country. Until now, the sole victims of Death Eater attacks have been muggle-born witches and wizards, or high profile members of the community openly defying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We must all be now asking ourselves: if a family as ancient, prestigious and carefully neutral as the Malfoys can be targeted, are any of us safe? _

"They- They didn't contact me," Helena said, annoyed that they'd lie like that. "Why would they say they'd contacted me when they haven't? That's unprofessional—shoddy journalism! I should write to the editor and-"

Sirius gripped her shoulders firmly. "Helena, are you not hearing this?"

She nodded. "Of course I am! They've just claimed to have tried to contact me and they didn't!"

"And why did they try to contact you?" he asked, speaking very slowly, as if to a very small child.

"To get my comment on what's happened."

"Right. And _what's _happened?"

With no way to avoid the answer to that question, Helena found her knees buckling. Sirius held her up and helped her into a chair. There were still no tears; her eyes seemed to have been filled with sand in fact, so she simply stared into space while he shoved a fresh mug of tea into her hand. When she took an unfeeling sip, she coughed a bit—he'd put firewhiskey in it to calm her _un_quivering nerves.

"How?" she asked finally. "How can they be dead? They're…purebloods. Voldemort _needs _purebloods, why would he order their deaths? A-and Mother? It says she might have _hanged _herself! God, Padfoot, how could- Why…?"

He pulled her into a hug which she didn't need. She wasn't crying. "What happened? What in the _hell _happened?"

Sirius seemed surprised when she looked at him in expectation. "I don't think there's any way to know, Hellfire. I mean, doesn't look like the Enforcement Officers have got any idea. Without catching a Death Eater I don't think there's any way we can-"

She stood and headed for the door. "Well, let's get dressed and do that then, yeah?"

He caught her wrist. "No. No way, Helena, stop."

She swallowed and glared at him, knowing it wasn't his fault. "Sirius. I _need _answers. These are my _parents_."

He sighed and looked away. Then he nodded. "Okay. Then we need to talk to Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yeah. The Order's got to know more than the _Prophet_, or what's the point of them?"

She nodded. "Sirius… What if this was _my _fault?"

He stopped. "What?"

"Well, this happened after yesterday, and both Mother and Lucius failed to do what he wanted," she elaborated, not needing to identify 'he', "so what if this was punishment-"

She cut off as Sirius turned away suddenly, his fists clenched. It wasn't just the muscles of his arms that were taut; because he was still naked she could see the tenseness ran through every line of his body. His shoulders rose and fell quickly. For one second she was actually a little frightened. "Sirius?"

He spoke over his shoulder. "Helena, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Those people, all of them, betrayed you at every opportunity they had. Yesterday Veronique tricked you into the clutches of six Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley. Those six Death Eaters were led by Lucius. They tried to kidnap you, take you to Voldemort and do God knows what to you. You would probably be dead by now if they'd succeeded, or wishing you were." He turned around, voice shaking now. Helena saw his grey eyes glittering in the morning light. "So how _dare _you think you owe them anything, much less your guilt? How dare you even begin to?"

She shook her head and went to him, tears in her eyes now. He buried her face in her hair and let out a short, frustrated sigh. "Christ I got it right yesterday didn't I? You are so stupid sometimes… Are you suggesting we should have let them take you?"

"Of course not, but…"

He kissed her hair. "Come on. We need to go and see Dumbledore."

* * *

The head of the Order of the Phoenix had been expecting them apparently; within ten minutes after they'd sent their owl to Hogwarts, the fireplace had flared to life, a scrap of parchment lifted on the emerald flames. Sirius snatched it from the air and read an address from it. "It's from Dumbledore."

"What does it say?" Helena asked. She knew she was pale and had dressed roughly, but at this point she honestly didn't care.

She showed it to her. "The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Castle Westmoreland, the Highlands of Scotland."

"The Headquarters?" she blinked. She hadn't been expecting that. But then why not? They were both members after all, she thought, glancing down at where her anklet glimmered around her leg. "And another castle? Wow, he must really like them…"

He gestured for her to enter the fireplace first; when she did, the first thing which greeted her was a suit of armour, steel finely polished with a shield on the shoulder. On it was a coat of arms: a lion surmounted by three diamonds, all painted in yellow and black. The armour leaned down and offered a chivalrous hand to help her out of the fireplace. She took it, then looked doubtfully at the empty helmet. Did one express gratitude to a suit of armour? Deciding to err on the side of caution, Helena nodded to it. "Thank you."

It saluted, and returned its gauntlets to the pommel of the sword stuck in the base. Helena touched the crest on its shoulder, wondering where it came from. Not one she'd seen before anyway, and unfortunately she'd been forced to learn most of them as a child.

"It's from my mother's side of the family," a crisp voice said from the end of the corridor.

"Professor!" Helena exclaimed, staring in surprise.

Minerva McGonagall was standing in the hallway, looking…exactly as she always had for as long as Helena could remember. Straight-backed, hair in a tight bun, robes extremely neat and set of her mouth prim. There was no hint of a smile on her face, though there was some worry around her eyes.

"You needn't refer to me as 'Professor' any longer, Miss Malfoy. You are no longer a student after all."

That was as may, but the idea of calling her 'Minerva' made her insides shrink. There was the a draught of warm air at her back, and Sirius came into the fireplace. He had a similar reaction to Helena. "Bloody hell, Professor!"

She noticed McGonagall did not extend the same invitation regarding her name to Sirius, and only beckoned to the pair of them to follow her. She strode through the corridors with her usual efficiency, setting a brisk pace that even though they were both taller, they had trouble keeping up with. The castle they were moving through was not as large as Hogwarts, was still fairly impressive. It was much sparser in its furnishings than the school had ever been.

"Professor, you know what you said about the coat of arms," Helena ventured, "is this your house?"

"It is, during school holidays."

_Explains a lot, _Sirius mouthed to her. Helena rolled her eyes, though he was right. It was…grim, that was the only word for it. The walls were made of dark granite blocks, with tiny, whistling holes in some of them. A few of the holes were as big as her hand, and the wind screeched through them. Occasionally they came to a large tapestry which covered what Helena suspected was a rather larger hole in the wall. Finally, after a trip down three spiral staircases and about half a dozen endless corridors, McGonagall led them to the bottom floor, and an enormous hall, decorated with antlers and even what looked like a dragon skull mounted on the wall. At the far end by a huge stained-glass window, was Dumbledore. McGonagall stopped and allowed them past her.

She touched Helena's shoulder briefly. "I'm sorry about your parents, Helena."

She nodded, tightness in her throat. "Thank you."

She carried on to Dumbledore and Sirius, hearing, "…course I didn't. D'you think _I'd_ be that stupid?"

She frowned. She'd heard Sirius be cheeky and rude to every teacher in the school, bar the two who were in the hall with them. And his tone was with redolent with bitterness now. Dumbledore had no reply for that, and only greeted Helena, again with condolences. Helena waved them away before he could finish. "I just need to know what happened, Professor. Surely the Order has a better idea than the press."

"Yes."

"Then please."

"Perhaps we should-"

"We should tell her the truth," a voice growled from the shadows. Helena and Sirius both jumped as with a clunking noise, Moody detached himself from the corner. They both jumped again when his face came into view. The eye socket which had been ruined was now full again, though with a false, wildly spinning eye that was a vivid and electric blue. It looked freakish, mad. Moody grinned at the expressions on their faces. "What, don't you like it?" he laughed harshly.

"Helena!"

They all turned to see Lily and James pelting into the hall, hand in hand. Lily skidded to a stop just in front of the brunette and took her hands. Her expression was full of compassion, and she opened her mouth but didn't seem to know what to say.

"It's alright, Lily. I'm here for answers, same as you." On that note, she turned to Dumbledore again. "Professor, please."

Dumbledore nodded. "Your parents were both murdered."

"Both of them? So- So Mother didn't…"

"No. It was designed to look at way, and I am reasonably confident that the authorities will come to that conclusion, as they are meant to. We have no evidence to suggest otherwise; this is mere conjecture on my part. Though your parents were murdered, it's not my belief that they were killed by Voldemort, though it may have been on his order. Helena, had you noticed anything strange about your mother's behaviour the last time you saw her?"

"Well…she was very friendly. More friendly than normal, and there were lots of dears and darlings flying about. And she couldn't—God, I didn't think anything of it—she couldn't say words that related to family, like 'daughter' or 'mother'. I think she tried to say she was proud of me as well for my NETWs, but it was like the words had gotten stuck. Do you think she _couldn't _say it because she was fighting the Imperius Curse?"

"That is my belief, yes."

"But why would she-" Helena broke off and paced a bit. "So…in order to get her to lead me into a trap, the Death Eaters put her under the Imperius Curse to force her to do it? She didn't want to?"

Moody cleared his throat loudly, mismatched eyes glaring meaningfully at Dumbledore. Helena looked between the two of them. "What? She _did _want to?"

"Course she didn't," Sirius said from behind her. "She must have been forced into it. Right, Professor? Helena wasn't her favourite kid but she's still her daughter."

Helena felt an increasing sense of bewilderment. There was something going on here that she did not understand, like there were two conversations taking place instead of one. There was an invisible line connecting Dumbledore, Sirius and Moody, two against one. From the energy emanating from the headmaster, he was definitely winning. But still, that fury she'd seen in Sirius earlier was back again full-force. He obviously thought he was protecting her from something. Which was very sweet…but she didn't need it.

"In either case," Dumbledore continued quietly, "it would seem that she _was _under the Imperius curse—Abraxus' curse. And that she broke through it once she was back at the manor. She then killed him."

Lily conjured a chair and Helena sat down, forcing herself to think clearly, through the now-shouting emotions raising hell in her heart. "Okay. So then where did the Dark Mark come from? Only Death Eaters know the incantation. Mother wouldn't have known what to say, even if she did want to make it look like someone else murdered Father. So someone else then took revenge on her?"

"Yes."

She looked up at him. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Lucius."

Helena's shoulders bowed. Lucius. Even she hadn't thought he could go that far. But then, if he could kidnap his sister to send her to torture and murder, why couldn't he kill his mother out of revenge for killing his father? "So Mother kills Father. And Lucius, what, strings-" Here her voice broke momentarily, and she couldn't stop it shaking as she continued. "Strings her up and kills her slowly, then puts the Dark Mark above the house and 'discovers' the bodies later?"

Dumbledore nodded somberly. Helena put her head back in her hands and tried to steady her breathing. It wasn't that she'd miss them terribly suddenly, and there was no montage of every pleasant moment they had ever spent together running through her brain—death hadn't softened anything. But for as long as she _had _memories, those memories involved her mother and father. She didn't sit straight enough, she ate too fast, she didn't try hard enough in her studies, she spent far too much time with undesirables…but it was always her parents' criticism. And now they'd just ceased to be. A constant she'd been cut from.

Sirius crouched down in front of her. "Hellfire?"

She shook her head, and he pulled her to his chest. Helena found her heartbeat slowing and her breathing calming rapidly. She pulled herself together quicker than she thought she'd be able to, and pulled away from his after a few moments, looking at Dumbledore again. "Are you sure you don't have enough evidence?"

"None that the Ministry will not be able to explain away."

"But you have clout, Dumbledore," she said, feeling strength rise from her chest somewhere, "you have friends high-up. You could convince them to investigate Lucius."

"Perhaps."

"Then you should," she said, voice ringing with conviction now. "You have the means; you've no excuse not to use them. I _want _that bastard brought to justice. Even if she was never kind to me she still didn't deserve to die, much less at the hands of her own son. Help me."

There was a ringing silence throughout the hall. Everyone was staring at her, and Helena felt her cheeks flame as she realised she'd just delivered a command to Dumbledore. She'd just given him an _order_. She didn't back down though, and she didn't look away. Dark blue eyes met light blue squarely. Finally Dumbledore nodded. "I'll do what I can."

All the fierce energy drained out of Helena, and she smiled weakly. "Thank you."

"Is that all?" Dumbledore asked, a little sharply, as if to remind Helena of how disrespectful that had been. She nodded, and he continued with, "While you're all here, I have instructions to give to you. Helena, Lily, I need you to be on the lookout for any patients with unexplained injuries. Things that they're not willing to talk about or give stories you suspect might be a Death Eater. Take a note of their names and pass them to the Order as soon as you can."

She and Lily exchanged a look, both of them thinking of the oath they'd already taken to protect patient confidentiality. And then they both nodded. "Of course."

"Good. Sirius, James—the same. Alastor is of course doing the same, but six eyes are better than two. Though that may no longer be the case," he added with a little smile to Moody, whose mouth did not change from its grim set. "You two must be even more vigilant, I'm afraid. Anyone at the Ministry you feel is acting suspiciously, report back to me. Do you understand?"

They all nodded, and soon after headed back to Helena's. Tea had only just been distributed when Helena said decisively, "I want to go to the funeral."

"Not happening," came at her from two different directions. On her left and right, both the Marauders in her kitchen were sat with arms crossed, stubborn expressions on their faces.

"_Why_?" she demanded. "They were my parents, I have a right!"

"You're still not going."

"You don't have a right to stop me, Sirius!"

"Watch me. I swear, Helena, I will tie you to the bloody bed for the rest of your life if you go within ten miles of that funeral."

"Stop it!" she snapped. "Stop trying to protect me from nothing at all! Even if the Minstry hasn't arrested Lucius they were still my _mother and father_. What part of that is so difficult for you to understand?"

Pushing her chair back with a screech, she stood and stormed out of the kitchen. Only Lily followed her, and caught up to her at the bottom of the garden. Helena turned on her with an accusing finger. "Something is going on, Lily! Something is going on that _those _two are not telling me and I am bloody sick of it!"

"Helena-"

"James must have told you something," she said suddenly. "Surely." When Lily looked hesitant, Helena grabbed her hands. "Please, Lily. Please."

The redhead bit her lip. "I don't know much, Helena."

* * *

**A/N: So, will Lily crack? Answers on a postcard please! Review please!**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And please everyone wish Classic Cowboy a very Happy Birthday - this is his present from me in that he doesn't have to beta it :D **

**Chapter Twenty**

"Then anything. Come _on_, Lily!" she urged when her friend continued to look hesitant.

"Voldemort wants you for a reason."

"Yeah, Sirius and I guessed it was because he thinks I know something."

A look of relief crossed Lily's face. "Do you know what?"

"No."

"Well James and Sirius both think it's important. That you're _really_ important. More than you know. Dumbledore told them as much." Finished, she bit her lip.

"Alright, then why didn't Dumbledore just _tell _me that? Why didn't Padfoot—why all the secrecy?"

"Maybe they thought you'd demand to know what," Lily shrugged.

Helena frowned. That _sort _of made sense; she might have wanted to know exactly what Voldemort wanted to know, but that could have disastrous consequences for the Order if she _was _captured alive. They could easily torture the information out of her. Or at least they probably could. She had no idea whether she could withstand the Cruciatus Curse. If she didn't know, they could torture her all they liked and get nothing. It was a pretty cold way of looking at things, but as head of the Order maybe Dumbledore had to think like that sometimes.

But it still didn't answer _all _of her questions. "No, that makes sense for some of it, but why would Dumbledore trust me with whatever it is? I only joined the Order in _May_, when I wasn't even out of Hogwarts yet. I was overage, but that was _literally _it. If this information or whatever is so important that Voldemort _himself _wants it, then why on Earth would Dumbledore trust it to a teenager?"

Lily blinked, green eyes wide. "I- I don't know, Helena. You're right, I suppose, but didn't Dumbledore say something about needing your cartography skills? What if it's a map that was imprinted on your mind magically so that only you know its secrets? And Bellatrix went an erased it."

She looked so earnest and hopeful that Helena found herself nodding. "Well that _sounds _plausible I suppose."

"There you go then." Lily patted her on the arm. "So nothing to worry about. Aside from the Death-Eaters-after-you thing."

Helena sighed. "And I can't go to the funeral because of that. Can I?"

"Probably not. If Lucius hasn't been arrested then it'll be too dangerous. A lot of the pure-bloods are in Voldemort's political camp if not his military one, and it'll just be them at the funeral. I'm sure you could visit their graves once its all blown over."

"Yeah," Helena said dully, feeling still unsatisfied with the information that had been presented to her and with no idea what else there could be. "Yeah I can."

Lily put an arm around her shoulders and led her back up to the house. "Come on. We'll get you some tea."

"I should apologise to the guys, shouldn't I?"

"Well…if you really want to. But I think being shouted at them every now and again is good for them," Lily winked.

* * *

Helena borrowed a lot of Sirius' books over the next few days—not that there was a whole lot to borrow—mostly trying to do exactly what he was doing, and study Concealment and Disguise. It seemed important that she learn how to hide herself effectively after all. And if not, then it was another useful skill to have. Though she may have forgotten to tell him she was borrowing them. So, when his Concealment and Disguise exam was looming, he wasn't best pleased to find all his books in a so-far empty room of the house.

He was even less impressed by Helena's breezy tone. "Oh I thought we could use this as a library. I plan on collecting a lot of books in my lifetime."

He moved over to her and jerked the tome she'd been perusing out of her hands. "Well _stop _nicking them from other people, Hellfire! I've been looking for this for days!"

"What are you worried about?" she asked, trying and failing to snatch _Most Potente Potions _back. "You always pass tests with flying colours anyway. And you _know _how to brew a Polyjuice Potion, you've been doing it since sixth year. You could probably do it with your eyes closed."

"Try telling that to Mad-Eye."

She tilted her head in question. "Mad-Eye?"

"Moody. New nickname. Y'know, 'cause of the…" he trailed off, gesturing at his own eye with a slightly weirded-out expression.

"Anyone had the courage to call him that to his face yet?"

"Not as far as I know," was the absent reply. He'd opened the book to the appropriate page and was now running his finger down the list of ingredients. "Okay, when's the next full moon? Tuesday?"

"Wednesday."

"Right, I'll have to owl Moony and tell him I won't be able to make it…"

"Won't be able to make it to what?"

He looked up, startled. "What?"

"You said you'd have to owl Moony about something."

"Oh. Yeah. Full moon."

She gave him another funny look but dismissed his odd behaviour as nerves. She could well understand how a man who'd managed to withstand Minerva McGonagall might be a little tense at the idea of Mad-Eye Moody. Though what the full moon had to do with anything she wasn't sure. Instead, she patted him on the knee and pulled another book down.

"Why are you looking at these things anyway?"

"I thought it would come in handy. In case Death Eaters come sniffing I can turn into…I don't know, the next door neighbour or something."

"She's sixty-seven, Helena."

"Exactly. Perfect disguise. I'll start doing a Moody and carry a hipflask around with me," she joked. "Don't worry, Padfoot, you'll be fine."

"Yeah." He didn't sound convinced though.

Unfortunately Helena didn't have too much time to worry about him—she had studies of her own to deal with. There was plenty to learn on the job, as well as a few exams coming up, as practical as Sirius'. The hospital had its own potioneers and its own stock of potions for use in everyday healing, but the junior healers were required to brew their own, either at home or within the potions lab at St Mungo's. Helena was not looking forward to her next assessed task: brewing the potion that had saved her life once; a Blood-Replenishing Potion. It was tricky to make at the best of times, and potions had never been her strongest skill. And Padgett's Potion Parade was completely out of precognitive plasma, so she'd had to mail order it from Toulouse, and it had only just arrived that morning. Normally she liked to check over the merchandise and see if it was up to scratch before she used it, and now she was faced with the prospect of only knowing if it was any good until _after _she'd brewed the potion. At least she had a friendly and equally nervous face in Lily, who wasn't doing Blood-Replenishing Potion, but Essence of Dittany. Both potions took roughly the same amount of time to brew—which was to say, all day. There came a period when they both needed to simmer for some time (an hour and fifteen minutes for Helena's, fifty-five minutes for Lily's), that the two young women had a chance for a cup of tea—Helena careful not to mix it with her potion, since the tannins in her tea would absolutely devastate the iron balance—and a quick chat.

"When's your next day off, Helena?"

"Um…Monday. Why?"

"We need to go shopping."

"Do we have to?" Helena asked. "Last shopping trip I went on didn't turn out brilliantly."

Lily smiled self-consciously. "Well this one will be. We're only shopping for two things."

"Which are…?"

"Well, a bridesmaids dress and a bridal gown."

Helena's eyebrows shot up. "You want me to a bridesmaid? Lily, I…I'm honoured. I would love to be."

Lily beamed. "I was hoping you'd say that! That's amazing. Thanks, Helena. I appreciate it. You and Alice are my bridesmaids."

"What about your sister?"

Lily shook her head. "Petunia would never agree. I'll be surprised if she even turns up at the church."

"Where are you having it?"

"Well, that's the other thing. We're having it in Godric's Hollow, but in order to get married in the parish church, we have to be _living _in the parish. Which means we have to move."

"And you can afford to do that?"

"We can now," Lily answered sadly. "James' parents are…giving us…their house, and moving further north. There's a hospice in York that they've decided would be the most comfortable place for Jasper to…"

Here she trailed off, but it was obvious what she meant. James' father was very, very sick by now. He was going to die within months. "When's the wedding?" Helena asked by way of changing the subject.

"September. The fifth."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "Less than a month then."

"Jasper doesn't have long."

Helena nodded, but was saved from having to make a suitably appropriate reply by the simmer time running out for her potion. When she went back to her cauldron, it was the nice crimson colour it was supposed to be. In another seven stirs clockwise and another seven anti-clockwise, she'd add the aluka sugar, raise the temperature to boiling for another eight and half minutes—and then it would be ready. And hopefully faultless.

Sure enough, it was. By the time she was ready to take it out of the cauldron, it was a deep, vermillion red. She dipped an empty bottle into the liquid and filled it, then stuck a cork in the top feeling rather proud of herself. It was certainly a better potion than she'd ever brewed at Hogwarts. Perhaps her skill was simply increasing as she grew as a witch, starting to test the boundaries of her real power. Beaming broadly, she handed it to Octavia Fantaine, who inspected it closely, then dipped her finger into the solution.

Tasting it, she nodded. "Well done, Helena. An excellent potion."

"Thank you."

"What's next on your list?"

"Calming draught. I'm going to brew it at home next week, and my examination is a few days after that."

"Excellent strategy."

"Thank you, Octavia."

"You're one step closer to becoming a full-fledged healer," she smiled. "I trust you have a suitably celebratory Friday evening planned?"

"Just going out for a drink with a few friends I expect. Just like the rest of London."

Octavia smiled. "In that case have a wonderful evening and I'll see you tomorrow."

The evening was wonderful; the Leaky Cauldron was packed, so much to Helena's disconcertment they took Lily's advice and headed into the muggle city. She was half-convinced that every muggle they walked past would know full well they were four wizards and two witches, but of course they didn't get a second look from anyone. They managed to find a bar not far from Hyde Park, and Helena got to try her first selection of muggle drinks. It was odd, not having butterbeer—or indeed anything close to it—on offer, but she let Lily direct her choices, and ten minutes later she was happily sipping on her first lager and lime. Opposite her, Sirius was busy getting himself a Guinness mustache. She'd had a sip of his and decided she didn't like it, finding it far too bitter. Lager though, she could handle. So well that she'd had about six pints of it so far. It was easier to drink than her normal tipple was, so she wasn't as drunk as she normally would be at this point in the evening. In fact, she felt fine, she told Lily.

Right up until the point when she tried to get up to visit the loo, stumbled hard and found herself on the lap of a complete stranger. Who decided that a quick grope was in order, along with a leer. That was of course until Sirius delivered him a glare that could freeze a furnace and jerked her off the groper's lap and into his own. His arm around her waist felt pretty possessive, but as long as there was no alien hand creeping up her leg she didn't mind.

"Thank you."

"Still think you're not drunk?" Lily chortled.

"I'm just fine."

"Of course you are. Need help finding the loo, Helena?"

Helena looked down at her fairly numb legs. "I might."

Lily laughed again and pulled Helena off Sirius' lap, holding her hand until they'd gotten safely to the pub toilets. When she came back, Sirius was fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. Putting it to his lips, he lit it and took a drag. Then noticed her gaze. "What?"

"Can I try it?"

"What, smoking?" He grinned. "You'd hate it, Hellfire. It's why I smoke in the garden at home."

"Well let me try it now." He shrugged and handed it over to her, watching as she took a drag. It wasn't that bad actually, but neither was it enjoyable. When she moved to hand it over to Sirius again, he shook his head. "No, Hellfire, you have to do it properly."

"But I did."

"No. No first-time smoker _doesn't _cough with their first breath. You need to take it into your lungs, not just your mouth."

Frowning, she took a deeper breath—and immediately her lungs were aflame and her throat burned. Everyone else laughed uproariously while she spluttered and choked on the noxious fumes now being emitted from her mouth and nose. She almost threw the cigarette back to Padfoot. "You bas-" she had to cut off the rest of her defamation in order to cough some more. "You bastard," she managed finally.

He only grinned at her. "Warned you."

"Okay, you're right, I hate it."

"Hey, do you guys want to go and check out the ascension of Venus into Aries?" Peter asked suddenly. "It won't be visible for very much longer, and you can see it without a telescope."

Astrology was one of the only—or _the _only—academic subject Peter had ever shown any talent in, and because of that it was almost the only option available to him, career-wise. That or some admin role which anyone, wizard or muggle, could have done. He had wanted to follow Sirius and James (as he always had in everything) into auror training, but in fifth year when choosing OWL options, McGonagall had informed him (kindly, Helena hoped) that he didn't have a hope of being accepting into the training programme. Potions, Herbology, he could do, as they were based in practical skill rather than grasp of spells, but without O Charms and Transfigurations, it was simply not going to happen. He'd managed to get an internship at the Daily Prophet as a trainee astrologist. For obvious reasons, witches and wizards tended to put more stock in such things than muggles did. He could make a good future for himself, which was probably more than most of the teachers had expected of him. And he truly did love his subject, that was obvious now more than ever. His round face was shining in excitement at the prospect of seeing Venus with the naked eye.

"Why not?" she smiled. "We can go to Hyde Park; it's not far and we'll have a clearer view."

Sirius and James both had expressions which indicated they were about to moan about the idea, but disapproving looks from their respective bedmates convinced them it would be a bad idea. Pete didn't get enough things going his way, after all. It was good that things had worked out for him at work, just like they had for the rest of them. Except Remus, she suddenly realised, her gaze falling on the quietest figure in the group. Sensing it, he gave her a pale smile, which she returned. He _hadn't _gotten a job yet, as far as she knew, at least not in the wizarding world. She couldn't comprehend why not; he'd gotten brilliant results from Hogwarts, and while he rarely spoke of them she knew he wasn't without ambitions. Yet his robes were as shabby and patchwork as they'd always been, and he still looked desperately tired. Feeling a stab of guilt, Helena realised it had been too long since she'd spent any time with him just as her friend, not simply as part of the group.

With that in mind, she made a point of walking next to him on their way to Hyde Park, about a five minute walk away. "You're quiet."

He looked up. "Is that a note or an accusation?"

"Depends. Anything bothering you?"

"No more than usual."

"See, I never understood what that meant," she said. "As long as I can remember you've said that and I still don't. What's 'usual'?"

He shook his head but wouldn't answer.

* * *

James' laughter in Sirius' ear distracted his attention from watching Helena and Remus talking quietly together. "Could you be any more obvious if you tried?"

"What?"

"You need to get to a mirror, mate, make sure your eyes haven't turned green."

"Prongs, _what _are you talking about?"

"You're jealous."

"Me? Of what?"

"Helena's attention _not _being on you."

They both looked over to where the aforementioned witch was laughing quietly with Moony. She stumbled over a tilting slab on the pavement in her heels, catching onto Remus' arm to stop her falling completely. Before he could stop it, something horribly akin to a growl came out of Sirius' mouth. James had to stop because he was doubled over laughing.

"Okay, you _have _to tell her," he said when he finally found strength to stand straight again, wiping tears from his face.

"Tell her _what_?" was the snapped reply.

"Alright, you see that?" James asked, pointing to where Peter and Lily were walking side by side, almost laughing together. "Know why _I'm _not growling?"

"I don't care."

"Because I've admitted how I feel about Lily, and vice versa. It makes everything about a million times easier, trust me. There's no conflict, there's no guilt, there's no jealousy. We're strong and secure. Confident in each other."

"You sound like you nicked that from a book."

"Stop intentionally missing the point."

"I'm not missing anything."

"Then what's the problem?" James asked as they reached the park and left the path to stroll on the grass.

Helena stopped to take her heels off and wiggle her bare feet deeper into the cool grass with an expression of deep contentment, so serene that he had to smile back. When he looked back at James, there was an extremely smug look on his face. Before he could decide between the urge to either:

- punch his best friend or

- walk away,

Wormtail chose that moment to interrupt, gasping and pointing excitedly up to a golden star in the western sky. "Look! There she is!"

It was late and the park was all but deserted aside from the six of them, so there was no danger of being overheard as Peter went on to describe the ways that Venus being in Aries might affect their spell-casting. Aries being the sign of war, it meant that offensive spells might be stronger, though not as strong as if Mars were the planet. Venus being the planet of love and Aries the most energetic star sign meant that relationships would be infused with impetus and movements. A very good time for new relationships, apparently, and for changes in relationships, whether that was reconciliation or the shift from friendship into something else. Sirius began to wonder if Wormtail and Prongs had got together and were now ganging up on him.

He made sure no one was paying attention and let out a heartfelt sigh. It wasn't that he wanted to be more than friends with Helena, he just didn't want _not _to be more than friends either. If he knew how he felt, then maybe he'd be more than happy to share it…but he doubted that was true either, if he was honest with himself.

"Hey, Padfoot, what would you say my colour is? Because it's not gold, is it?"

He frowned at Helena. "Your colour? I'd say it was sort of creamy, actually…"

"No, you idiot, what colour do I look best _dressed _in?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's one of those questions men should never answer. I say gold isn't your colour, you say, 'Does that mean I look _bad _in gold?' and then I'm in a really big hole that could have easily been avoided. So not answering."

Unfortunately for Sirius, Helena proved that even by giving _any _answer, no matter how non-committal, Sirius was already at the bottom of that hole and digging his way to Australia. "Well you must think I look better in some colours than others."

"Nope."

"So I look bad in _all _colours?"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"How- _How _did I imply it?"

"You just said I don't look better in some colours than any others. Since it's impossible for me to look good in _everything _I wear, then you must think I look bad in some, so you must think I look bad in everything."

"I don't- How did- Hellfire, that's not even approaching any kind of logic. Believe it or not I actually don't care what you wear, since whatever you wear I generally end up taking it off anyway, and as far as I'm concerned the thing you look best in is your skin."

She looked like she didn't want to smile, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in a pleased smirk anyway, and she and Lily went back to chatting about bridesmaid dresses. Seemed like midnight blue was the consensus. Which would probably make her eyes just _glow_. Stupid beautiful woman.

By the time 1 a.m. rolled around, most of the heat from the day had faded, and dew was beginning to settle on the grass. Helena had long since commandeered his jacket from him by the time they decided to call it a night. Everyone else stood, preparing to disapparate, while Helena carefully put her shoes back on.

"Aren't you just going to apparate home?" Lily asked.

"It's not far, I can walk."

"_We_ can walk," Sirius corrected. "All the Death Eaters in Britain are after you, woman. You're lucky I'm letting you go to the toilet alone."

The others bid them goodnight and left—after checking that the darkness hid them from muggle view—leaving the two of them alone. "Come on."

"Race you," she grinned suddenly, running past him.

"Helena, don't be an idiot-"

"Just because you can't catch me!" she called over her shoulder.

Sirius did the natural thing, and transformed, easily catching up and passing her. Expecting to hear shouts of 'That's cheating' follow him, he was instead given a shocked gasp and a complete lack of running footsteps. He turned to see what the problem was, to find Helena staring at him in complete shock. The dog drew his eyebrows together. Surely she knew-? No. She'd forgotten.

With a sigh, he transformed back.

Helena carried on staring. Then she punched him in the chest and stormed off. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You _lied _to me!" she yelled furiously over her shoulder.

"I didn't _lie_," he argued, running to catch up with her. "You guessed, I just talked you out of your guess. I never said you were _wrong_."

"Semantics!" she snapped. "I guessed right and instead of trusting me and telling me you were an animagus, you let me think I was being paranoid!"

"What choice did I have? If you'd let slip to Lily while she was still Head Girl-"

"How many bloody secrets have I kept for you over the years, Black? How many times have I covered for you with McGonagall, or Lily, or Dumbledore-"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he ground out. "Fuck! You weren't like this the first time you found out."

"Oh wonderful. So this is yet _another _thing I've forgotten? How many other things are there? Has Remus been made Minister for Magic? Has You-Know-Who changed the Dark Mark to a pink fluffy bunny?"

"Calm down, alright," he snapped. "You're shouting."

Helena did lower her voice, but her tone remained furious. "Whatever happened in those six months, I have a right to know it all. I am fed up of people keeping things from me; it's not fair and I've had enough!"

He couldn't tell her everything. He couldn't. Bound not only by the promise he and James had given to Dumbledore…he couldn't face what she might do. But there were things she could know safely. "Alright. There is one more thing. _How _you found I was an animagus. Actually, we all are. Me, James and Pete."

She frowned. "What about Remus?"

"There's the reason we became animagi. Think about it," he said carefully. "I'm Padfoot because my other form is a dog. James is Prongs because he turns into a stag. Peter turned into a rat. Remus…"

"Moony," Helena said softly. The moonlight showed her puzzled expression; puzzled, but shifting slowly through the layers of the mystery until meaning began to shine through. Like it was a spell she'd yet to understand. He loved that expression. He knew she had it when her eyebrows shot up briefly, then just as quickly back down again. "Merlin's beard. He's a werewolf, isn't he? He has lycanthropy."

Sirius nodded. "Since he was a kid."

"So you…?"

"So we could keep him company, yeah."

Helena laughed in a short, startled chuckle. "'Keep him company'?" she repeated sharply. "_Keep him company_? You don't keep a _werewolf _company!"

"Why not?" Sirius asked fiercely. "Isn't he as deserving as friendship as everyone else? Isn't he a person like you or me? It isn't his fault he got bitten-"

"No, no, no, I didn't mean that," Helena said, putting her hands up. "I'm sorry."

Sirius nodded shortly. "Because James and I are so large as animals, we can help control him. He's not as vicious when he's with us. We have fun."

"Oh God, it's all about _fun _with you lot, isn't it?" she muttered, suddenly angry again for reasons he had no idea of. "The _Marauders…_with your maps and your pranks and your immaturity. You know, just for once, I'd wish you'd take something fucking seriously."

Before he could say anything else, she'd turned on the spot and vanished.

* * *

**A/N: Btw, I have no idea about anything astrological - most of that was guesswork, so I'm sorry it it's all bunkum. Review please! **


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Also if anyone would like to follow me on Twitter or like me on Facebook, the links to both are on my profile page. It would be much appreciated :D **

**Chapter Twenty One**

By the time he got back to the house, Helena had locked herself in her bedroom and _alohomora _wasn't working. "Open the door, Helena."

"I have nothing to say to you at the moment, Padfoot. I'll talk to you in the morning," she said primly through the wood separating them. "Once I've calmed down."

"What do you have to calm down _about_?" he snapped. "It doesn't affect you at all. I'm sorry I lied to you, but at the time there didn't seem to be any other option and we were…" he trailed off, realising he'd been about to say 'just friends then' and also realising that they weren't any less friends now, or any more. "…less close than we are now," he finished. "I trusted you but it wasn't my secret to tell, and it just hasn't come up since. For God's sake, the only reason you actually found out in February was because I was trying to pull you out of a fucking lake!"

There was a silence, and then the door opened. "Why was I in a _lake_?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. She was talking to him. Once that happened normally he could scale her anger down. "I have no idea. Presumably the same reason you tried to kill yourself a few days later. Again. You actually thought I was the Grim. And you were…happy to see me, right up until the point I turned back to human."

She frowned slightly. "I wish I knew why."

"Yeah, well, you and me both."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for shouting at you. I just…I feel like you don't take things seriously enough sometimes. It was fine when we were at Hogwarts, we were safe there. We're not safe anymore, Sirius. Not just me, _none _of us are safe. I don't want you to take any risks you don't have to, I don't want to lose you, I… I worry for you, too," she finished quietly.

He offered a smile, which she returned warmly. "Any more questions? Or do you still want to wait until morning?"

"I do want to ask more," she admitted, "but it's one in the morning. It'll probably have to wait until daylight anyway."

"Fair enough. Goodnight, Hellfire."

"Night."

The questions did come the next day, but not before a startling announcement over dinner. After wiping her mouth with her napkin, she said, "Teach me. I want to become an animagus."

"Why?"

"Good skill to have. Useful. And I don't like you being one-up on me," she grinned.

"Alright. I'll teach you," he said, "as long as you know a few things. One: it's not easy, and it's dangerous. Two: it's going to take a long time. It took us more than a year to perfect it."

"But you were doing it independently and you were doing it blind. I've read up on it as much as I can and I'll have a good teacher," she countered. "It'll take me less, I can guarantee it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh can you? Careful, Hellfire, or I'll think I'm rubbing off on you."

"Too bloody right," she grinned. "So? Will you teach me?"

"I might. What's it worth?"

"I'll do that…_thing_ that you like. In bed."

He brightened. "Really?"

"Really," she sighed, looking not at all excited by the prospect.

"Okay, I'll teach you. But I want another favour too."

"Which is…?"

"Your hair. Or your fingernail clippings, but I'd really prefer your hair."

"For what?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Polyjuice potion."

"And why do you want to be me?"

"Why would I want to be a hot bird for an hour…hmm, let me think about that one for a minute…"

She sighed, then nodded. "Alright, you can have some hair. Now can we start on animagus transformations?"

"Sure. Tranfiguration's your best subject, so this should be easier for you than it was for me. First you need to cast your Patronus. It'll probably be very similar to what you're going to transform into, so getting to grips with it intimately will be helpful. Can you cast them?"

"Yes, but I've only ever done it in…antiseptic conditions."

"Well, there're no Dementors around, so same deal here. Think of a happy memory and off you go."

Helena nodded and pulled her wand out. Pointing it at the ceiling, she locked eyes with him and smiled, "_Expecto patronum._"

A silver-white shape erupted from the end of her wand, forming quickly into a bird which circled the kitchen swiftly. Sirius couldn't quite focus on the beauty of the sight though; her happiest memory was one of him? Ignoring the warm feeling that thought brought, he told her to call the patronus down. She did so, and once it had settled its infinitesimal weight on her arm, he looked carefully at it. Interesting. Getting to grips with four legs had been tricky enough, wings was something else entirely. Especially since she couldn't fly on a broom to save her life. The patronus was a bird of prey, sleek winged and dangerously beaked, regarding him imperiously. Very definitely Helena.

They both turned their gazes on him. "Now what?"

"Now learn her. You can imprint your voice onto a Patronus, and send it to do what you want, well, when you do that, try and connect your mind to it as well. For instance, send it to the bottom of the garden and back again." Frowning, she looked at the patronus, and it did so, taking off out of the open kitchen window and heading down the shadowed garden. "Now close your eyes and reach out to it."

She did as she was told and closed her eyes, frowning slightly in concentration. He knew what she was feeling, not quite seeing. There was a tiny thread of light behind your eyes, a tint of brightness that could have been an afterimage. Only the familiar tingle of magic told you it wasn't. Once you followed it, it widened into a crazy black-and-silver world, where the world around you was only illuminated as you crashed into it. On the ground it had been disorientating, in the air he had no idea how tense it would be. Tense, though, didn't seem to have how Helena felt; within moments her frown had all but disappeared, and she even started leaning slightly, left and right, in her chair. He wondered if she was steering her patronus. He hoped so. Controlling the phatom animal was the key to learning how to control the animal itself. Without even the faintest idea of how to move, it was far too easy to lose all sense of self once the actual transformation took place. But even if you were still sat inside not moving at all, it was still difficult to- The patronus was coming back now, a white gleam in the darkness that he saw coming. About five feet from the window though, it faded into nothingness.

Helena opened her eyes with a grimace of frustration. "I lost it. I saw the window coming and panicked as to how I was going to fly through it."

"That's natural, Hellfire," he assured, "I'm surprised you managed to hold control as long as you did. A Patronus Charm is difficult at the best of times."

"Still. I should have done better."

"No, you shouldn't. If you did you'd be a magical genius—just keep practicing the flight control. It's important that you do before you try bodily transformations. It can't help with the shift in weight, but it's better than nothing."

"Is that how you started?"

"No. Prongs did. I just…"

"Jumped straight in the deep end without considering the possible consequences?" she asked, amused.

"Something like that."

"Why am I not surprised?" she grinned. She leaned forward, enthusiasm lighting her face. "So when can we start the real stuff?"

"When you can send your patronus to circle Big Ben and back again without losing concentration, and then make it tell me what the _Evening Prophet's _leading story is, word for word."

She raised her eyebrows. "You're a demanding teacher."

"The best ones are."

She burst out laughing, clutching at the tabletop while glee racked her ferociously. Finally she spluttered out a coherent sentence. "I _need _to tell McGonagall _you_ said that, of all people!"

"You do, and the Death Eaters will have to get in the queue to kill you," he warned, only half-joking.

She grinned at him but finally managed to sober. "Alright, alright. I'll practice. Do I have a deadline?"

"No. I'll be surprised if you can get as far as controlling your patronus fully before Christmas."

She blinked. "Really? I was aiming for Lily and James' wedding…"

It was his turn to laugh. "That'll be impossible, I guarantee it."

She gave it everything she had, he had to give her that much. It seemed like every second she wasn't at the hospital she was sitting somewhere with her eyes closed, sending her patronus on swooping tours of the house, or exploring the rooftops of London. She also improved noticeably almost every evening as well, making him rethink how long it would take her. Certainly less than a year, at this rate. He made a mental note to tell her to slow down at some point, because otherwise she'd burn out. He estimated she was probably doing about the same amount of work now as she had been in those final weeks at Hogwarts. But he had a horrible feeling that if he suggested she cut back on something, she might pick sex. And he really enjoyed that.

A few days after they'd struck their deal, he needed to take her up on her end. It was Monday, and his exam was imminent. He had the Polyjuice Potion ready, bubbling and waiting for the final, crucial ingredient. He planned to take it before leaving the house and turn up at work as someone else completely. Maybe hit on someone just to wind Helena up. But Monday happened to be one of her days off, and she wasn't up yet. Nerves had woken him very early, and they were demanding that he wake her now. Not that he was going to give _her _that explanation if asked. He hadn't dressed yet, clad only in his boxers.

He knocked quietly on her bedroom door, which got no response. "Helena?"

Nothing. Pushing open the door, he found her still fast asleep, curled up on her side away from him. She was naked; the bare expanse of her back looking achingly smooth to his gaze. He moved inside the room and touched her shoulder. "Hellfire. Wake up."

She stirred, but only enough to push back the duvet in a clear invitation. He chuckled softly but didn't deny her, slipping into bed behind her. She immediately wiggled backward, closer to him, but then fidgeted for a few minutes as though something was wrong, but she didn't know what. Finally her fingers hooked into the rim of his boxers and pulled at it. Rolling his eyes, Sirius obliged her and removed his underwear. Helena settled against him without much more fidgeting. Sirius sighed. And then again, more loudly and directly in her ear, when it had no effect.

"As lovely as this is, Hellfire, it's not quite what I was after…"

She huffed sleepily and shifted her hips backward, rocking her pelvis gently against his. It wasn't that he wanted to, exactly, but at the same time his body's reaction wasn't exactly something he had much control over either. She was naked, and that fact had pretty much negated any resistance he might have. Before he could send his brain into a decidedly different direction, his other brain took over, and began raising its head. Helena raised her arm to the stroke the back of his neck, running her fingers through his hair as he lowered his mouth to her neck. She moaned gently and took his hand, moving it without any ado to exactly where he wanted it. Apparently men weren't the only sex to deal with 'the morning'—she was already wet to his touch, her clit slippery when he rubbed his fingertips over it. She dropped one hand behind her to curl it around his cock and pump softly up and down until he was fully hard. He moved her thighs apart and pushed into her, causing them both of them to groan loudly. Helena's grip shifted down to follow his thrusts into her, hand on his arse. He took her other hand, using her own fingers to stroke her clit, guided by his. Her back left his chest as she arched it. He kept the movements of his hips slow and deep, pleasure igniting in a slow burn. Helena turned her head slightly, enough for him to see the fire in her eyes. She whimpered as he hit her g-spot, and then again, louder, when his hand left hers to slide up her body, reaching a nipple. He took it before finger and thumb, pulled it away from her body slightly, squeezing hard as he dared. The pleasure/pain contrast caused the woman in his arms to shudder. His name left her mouth in a ragged gasp. Her voice was heavy, loud, passion-filled. The resulting rush of emotion caught him by surprise; he pulled her as close as she could physically be as they both finally came hard. Blinded by pleasure, they held each other while they both returned to earth.

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "You're beautiful."

She smiled and turned so she could snuggle into his chest. "Not so bad yourself. And I could definitely go for being woken up like that more mornings."

He rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, that wasn't what I came in for."

"Oh. That's disappointing. What did you come in for?"

"Some of your hair. It's Polyjuice time." He got out of bed and held up the small glass he'd brought with him into the bedroom. The unfinished potion had the consistency and appearance of mud. Helena nodded and didn't complain when he was less gentle than he meant to be when yanking a couple of hairs out. Carefully he put them in the potion, and it hissed and turned the colour of pearls.

"Looks just _yummy_," she commented.

Sirius grimaced and then raised the glass. "Cheers."

He downed it in three gulps, but didn't look nearly as disgusted as she thought he might. "You're not bad. Tastes like you do anyway."

"Which is how?"

"Like-"

He cut off as his hands started bubbling, the skin rising and falling in odd globules. They spread to his chest, stomach… Seeing her favourite part of him literally shrink up and shrivel away was momentarily panic-inducing, until she reminded herself that it was only temporary. His legs shortened, hair disappearing from them as his hips rounded. The hair on his head lightened slightly in colour and streamed about his shoulders. In less than a minute, Sirius was…her.

He grinned. "Now _this _gives me some ideas…" Helena slapped his hand away when it went up to cup _her_ own breast. The only response was for herself to put hands on her hips and draw her closer. "What's the matter, Hellfire? Not one for narcissism?"

"You're disgusting. And I'm not a lesbian, Sirius, grow up."

He shrugged, managing a smile that was definitely his even if it was on her face. "Ah well. Worth a try."

He leaned forward and kissed her before she could stop him, causing her to freeze in surprise and mild shock. He swept her tongue around her mouth quickly, letting her know what he'd meant about the way she tasted, she assumed—except to her, it tasted of nothing at all. At least nothing different than what her own spit tasted like.

Pulling away, he walked over to _her _wardrobe and pulled out one of her favourite tops and a pair of flared jeans. "Where're your shoes?"

"You are _not _wearing my clothes."

"Might spoil the illusion if I go in mine, Hellfire."

"I don't care. What happens when you change back, they'll rip! Besides, the idea of you wearing _my _underwear is-" Well, it was hilarious actually, but that wasn't the word she was searching for at the moment, "-disgusting. I won't let you."

"You've never heard of _reparo_?" he asked scornfully. It was downright annoying; he even had her mannerisms down pat, the set of her mouth and the hands-on-the-hips stance. "It doesn't matter if they're in complete shreds, all it'll take is one spell and you'll never know the difference."

"_I _will know the difference! It's not happening."

"No?" He pulled the jeans on and did them up. "Oh look—happening."

While Helena was apoplectic with rage, Sirius finished getting dressed. When he finally saw the look on her face, he sighed. "Look, I'll buy you new clothes, okay? Sorry, Hellfire, but if I'm going to pass then I really need to look the part. So please?"

Not so very long ago, she had been utterly and completely immune to that charming grin and those mariner's eyes. She remembered seeing right through them for what they were: shameless tricks to get her to capitulate to whatever he wanted. And now she was really struggling to say no. He just looked so… Realising there was no possibility of her refusing him, she decided at the very least she could be incredibly unreasonable. "You'll buy me clothes worth twice what those are."

He beamed. "Thank you."

"Yes, yes. Get out of my sight, before I change my mind. And good luck!" she yelled after him as he charged down the stairs.

* * *

The temptation to go back to bed was powerful after Sirius had left for work, but one look at the clock told her it would probably be a bad idea. She had plans to meet Lily for breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron at nine, after which they would be going out once again into muggle London to find bridesmaid dresses. She wasn't relishing it, but since Lily didn't like many of the fashions in the wizarding world this season, her options was limited. And Helena wasn't about to argue with a bride about what her wedding day should be. She wanted to live, after all.

After a shower and dressing, Helena got on her bike and headed out, arriving a few minutes ahead of schedule and ordering a coffee gratefully from Tom.

"Helena! Helena, over here!"

Cup in hand, she looked around for the source of the voice and found an unlikely source, someone she hadn't seen in months. Alice Fellowes sat at the back of the pub by the cold fireplace, waving. Smiling widely, Helena made her way over and greeted the other pureblood witch warmly.

"Long time no see!" Alice grinned.

"It has been far too long. How are you?"

Alice sat down again and ran a hand through her short hair. "Busy. Work's, well, murder, as you can imagine," she said with a self-conscious smile. "And-" she held up her left hand, the wedding ring on it glinting in the sunlight coming through the window, "-Frank and I got married last week!"

"Merlin's beard!" Helena took her hand and looked closely at the ring. It was a plain gold band except for a tiny gem in the centre. At least she thought it was a gem—no, she realised suddenly. It was identical to the stone that was around her ankle right now. A phoenix tear. She looked sharply up at Alice, who only winked knowingly and gave the merest shadow of a nod. So she was in the Order too. "Is Frank-?"

"Mmhm. So, how are you? I hear you're shacked up with Sirius Black, of all people."

"Well, yes. But strictly because he had nowhere else to live except the Potters' back lawn. Once he has his first wage packet…"

She left the sentence unfinished, only because she didn't know how she was going to end it. She knew, logically, that Sirius must have his first salary by now, so by the terms she'd placed on their deal, he should have moved out already. He hadn't because neither of them actually wanted him to. _He'd probably refuse anyway. Say I need the extra protection. _Alice now had that annoying look on her face, the look that Lily had every time Sirius' name came up. The look that said she was fooling no one except herself. Helena changed the subject.

"So how come you're not on honeymoon somewhere?"

"Death Eaters. Bastards are raiding places left right and centre, and we normally get there a few seconds late, but occasionally we get lucky and get stuck into a real fight. Couple of days ago we sent a whole load of them to Azkaban. Mad-Eye's on a vengeance kick. You know, since he lost his eye. Not going to bring it back of course, but I don't think it's going to stop him trying."

Helena smiled. "Glad to see it hasn't stopped him. So how come you're in the pub if you're so busy at work?"

"Same reason you are," Alice smiled, "I'm waiting for Lily."

"You're a bridesmaid too?"

"Yep. Speaking of, any idea when our bride-to-be is getting here?"

"She said nine."

On cue, Lily entered the pub looking slightly weary. Upon catching sight of Helena, she stopped, an expression of surprise and confusion on her face. She glanced back out the doorway, looked even more surprised, and then hurried over. Helena found a wand in her face a second after she arrived at the table.

"Lily, what in Merlin's name-"

"What did you tell me if I asked if it was as bad you thought, after you'd apologised to Mary MacDonald?" Lily demanded.

"What?"

"I just met you walking down Diagon Alley, your _exact _double. So answer the question!"

Helena blinked and cast her memory back. "I told you it was a million times worse. And that you could pay me back later."

Lily relaxed, and her wand was lowered. "Okay, you're you. But, Helena, I just saw you! You're out there, just going toward the Ministry now."

"Oh! That's Sirius, don't worry."

"Sirius?"

"Polyjuice Potion. It's his Concealment and Disguise exam today. He took some hair and went as me."

"And you're alright with that?" Lily asked, looking shocked. She lowered her voice. "Helena, half the wizards in London are after you and you let Sirius take on your image? I kind've expect that kind of recklessness from him but I thought you'd be more pragmatic about it!"

"He'll be fine," Helena soothed. "By now he's in the Ministry, under Mad-Eye's watchful gaze, nothing's going to happen to him. Besides, he's capable of looking after himself."

Lily's expression suddenly did a complete u-turn, slipping into relaxed as she shrugged. "You're probably right."

Helena and Alice exchanged a startled glance. "Lily, maybe we should be checking _you're _who you say you are…"

"No, we should be getting into dress shops, because I'm getting married in three weeks and I don't have a gown yet, and neither do my bridesmaids!"

That was enough to convince them, and the three young women set off together into London. Helena had taken the precaution of going to Gringotts the day before to change some of her money into the strange currency muggles insisted on using. Strange bits of paper with some woman's head on them—Lily had informed her that was the Queen, whom she wouldn't have known from Adam otherwise. With no idea how much things cost, she'd changed about a hundred galleons, and tucked the resulting paper into her handbag. Lily had insisted to both of them that she would buy their dresses, but there was nothing wrong with doing some shopping for herself while they were out. Surprisingly, wandering through territory so foreign, Helena found herself able to relax easily. There was somehow no danger here, in this sunny strange street. And no one was looking at them strangely. No one was whispering or talking as they went past. Total anonymity.

In these calm conditions it didn't take them too long to stumble on a wedding dress shop that looked promising. It served complimentary champagne to all prospective customers, which the women were all-too-happy to indulge in while Lily made her selection from the gowns on offer. She didn't like sleeves, and she didn't want a short one, and they had no idea what the weather would be like in September anyway. Finally she settled on a lacy covered gypsy style gown, floor-length and beaded at the hem, neckline and shoulder straps in tiny pale gold patterns. The veil that went with it was very long, and could easily be wrapped around her bare arms if it was chilly on the day. When she came out from behind the curtain in it, both Alice and Helena were struck dumb. She looked _beautiful_—ethereal and radiant, her green eyes positively glowing in the light. James was going to be completely unable to say his vows. Completely unable to speak period.

"That's the one," Alice said decisively, smiling. "That is the one."

Lily agreed, and paid for the dress there and then. The shop owner packed it up carefully and put it into a pale pink box tied with black ribbon for them to carry it out of the shop. Lily waited until they were around the corner and out of sight of any muggles before she put the whole box into her handbag, which swallowed it without a problem, and apparently didn't make it weigh anymore than it usually did. Next task on the list: bridesmaid dresses.

They stopped at a department store not too far from Diagon Alley, called Selfridges. Helena had liked a shop they'd already passed called 'Harrods', but that had been vetoed for being too expensive, so now here they were. Since midnight blue was the colour of choice, they'd mainly been going after dresses in that shade—there were some in the window that Lily liked the look of that Helena was trying vainly not to throw up at. But still, it wasn't her choice. And she only had to wear it for one day. And there would only be a finite number of photographs to hunt down and burn, after all.

Just before the point before she couldn't suppress her urge to tell Lily what a monstrosity she'd picked out, Alice grabbed her elbow. She saw her do the same thing to Lily. "Don't look around. We're being followed. We have been since we left _Belle Boutique_. There're four of them."

"You recognise any of them?"

"Yeah. Jonah Hammond, Sophia Vines, Nathaniel Parkinson and Kurt Honey."

"All former Slytherins," Helena said lowly.

Lily's eyes flew across the reflection in the glass window. The street behind them was packed, but all of the muggles were moving quickly; there were eight eyes on them, four faces that were still blobs of colour in the crowd. "I see them. Why would they come into muggle London?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Helena muttered. "Okay, Mrs Auror, what's the plan?"

"We go inside. There are always multiple entrances to these places; we find one and get out that way, before they can corner us."

"Do we split up?"

"No. We're stronger together. We should also try and follow the crowd, they're less likely to attack in front of muggles."

Helena let her wand slip down her sleeve into her hand, but kept it mostly hidden in her palm. Lily asked, "What about the muggles? Someone might get hurt."

"We'll have to risk it. Come on."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! This will be the last update for a few days/weeks I reckon, since I have writer's block :( Enjoy it! **

**Chapter Twenty Two**

They moved fast once they were inside, minds obviously not on looking for bridesmaid's dresses and instead focused on the nearest way out. "Food court, over there," Helena pointed, grabbing Lily's arm and pulling her in that direction. She had no idea why she felt like Lily needed protection and she didn't—Alice was an auror, been trained for these situations, but Lily was only a healer. But then, so was she. But if these Death Eaters were like the last ones, then they needed her alive. They didn't need either of her companions.

They moved down through the womenswear and lingerie sections, none of them outwardly checking that the Death Eaters were following and yet absolutely sure they were. Neither could the Death Eaters be sure that they knew they were being pursued; they were moving quickly, but not running, and not giving any furtive glances over theirs shoulders.

Then the first shout went up. "Oi, watch it!"

Heads turned, but not theirs. Already rigid, their muscles only tensed a little more and they continued. Then more shouting; Helena chanced a glance in a mirror as they passed, and saw that the Death Eaters were shoving their way through the muggles, uncaring of the shouts that went up behind them. Unlike the three of them, they had not bothered with muggle dress, and their odd clothes were attracting attention.

"Bloody watch where you're going, freak!"

Nathaniel Parkinson stopped. "Are you addressing me, muggle?"

"You what? Yeah, freak, I'm talking to you! You deaf or something?"

Nathaniel went for his wand. "You would do well to hold your tongue."

The muggle only laughed. "What you gonna do with that, poke me eye out? Bugger off."

The wizard drew in a breath, and Helena pulled away from Alice and Lily, turning to face the Death Eaters. She heard them both swear, but do the same. "Don't do this, Parkinson," she warned. "You have no quarrel with these people."

"People? You call _them_ people?"

Lily's hand went up to her neck and she began rubbing the pendant there furiously. Helena hoped the message got through, but just in case it didn't, she had to keep them talking for as long as she could.

"Yes, they're people! And this isn't their war—ours is on Diagon Alley, not out here!"

"Soon it will be everywhere, and you will learn that this filth is not worth protection from any one of us!"

Helena drew her wand. "We won't allow you to harm any of them. And I won't allow you to get your disgusting hands on me."

He smirked. "Sadly for you, the Dark Lord has issued his orders. Take her. Kill her only if you must."

Well, that was new. Not good, but new.

They didn't have to tell the muggles to scatter, since as soon as the first piece of clothing caught fire from an incendiary spell, they all got the message. With many screams and cries of alarm, the floor quickly emptied apart from them. None of the witches or wizards noticed them go, as they were all, good and evil, engaged in a fight to the death. Helena quickly decided she was very glad the only auror there was on their side—Alice Longbottom was not someone she'd want to be on the wrong side of in a fight. Honey was already in a heap of sale racks, unconscious, and she was rapidly taking Jonah Hammod apart, firing spells at twice the speed he was.

She ducked one spell from him, then yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Helena finished it. "_Incarcerous_!"

Limbs pinned, Hammond was borne to the ground, unnoticed by either his enemies or his comrades; Helena had already gone to Lily's side, throwing up a Shield Charm quickly to protect herself from the Stinging Jinx Vines sent her way. She retaliated with a stunner, but it was Lily's _Langlock_ which made it possible for her to cast a Trip Jinx. Unfortunately Sophia cast the same spell simultaneously, and they went sprawling together. Helena's wand had flown out of her hand into a smouldering pile of skirts, but there was the leg of a dressing room chair near her left; she picked it up and used it as a club to the back of Vines' head. Not elegant, but satisfying.

A hand appeared in front of her, and she took it and let Alice pull her to her feet. "Cavalry's here," she said.

"I've lost my wand."

"_Accio wand_!"

With a zipping noise, Helena's wand zoomed out of the pile of clothes and into Alice's hand. She immediately gave it back to its owner and, with a smile, charged back into the fight. There were now six of them—the three women and their exact male counterparts, who'd appeared out of nowhere. With Hammond and Vines down and out, the other two Death Eaters were battling hard and futilely. Honey locked eyes with Helena for a brief second and then grabbed Parkinson's arm. Helena shot another spell at Kurt, which split open his sleeve and his skin, but didn't stop him from disapparating with the other dark wizard. The suddenly-silent department store fell still. Lily still looked furious, and cracked her knuckles before lowering her arm. Her green eyes were fixed on James though. Alice looked the most composed of all of them, breathing quickly but not raggedly. Helena found she was bleeding from a cut on her cheek that she didn't remember getting. She almost didn't want to look at Sirius. She knew he'd be livid.

Not one of the men hesitated, and within three seconds all three of the women were in the arms of their husband, fiancé and lover, respectively. Helena closed her eyes and squeezed herself close as she could get.

"Are you hurt?" he asked lowly.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, apart from my face. But they came to capture or kill me this time."

"I can't believe they'd be so brazen."

"The muggles-"

"Are all fine. Minstry's doing Memory Charms now. By tomorrow it'll be something that never happened. Glad that's not my job though."

"Thanks for showing up when you did."

"Any time." He kissed her temple and then let go of her. She missed the security when he had, but smiled at James and Frank. "Thank you, both of you."

Frank tapped his own wedding ring. "We got your owl."

Helena walked over to Sophia Vines and removed the rope that gagged her. Then she put her foot on the Death Eater's chest and leaned. "What am I supposed to know?"

"Hellfire-"

Helena held up a hand for him to wait and leaned a little more heavily on Vines' chest. "What is _so _important that Voldemort'll send you lot into muggle London to get?"

Vines' eyes sparkled maliciously. "You don't _know_?"

"Helena, don't-"

"In a second, Lily," she snapped, eyes still on Sophia. "That should be obvious, now what am I supposed to know? What is in my head that he wants?"

Vines struggled against her bonds; Helena tightened them. "Oh, it's not in your head. It's in your-"

"Enough." Frank appeared at her side, replacing the gag with his wand and levitating her off the floor. "We need to get them to Azkaban."

"But-"

"We'll see you later," Alice overrode.

Helena vented her frustration on a growl and gritted teeth, until after the aurors and their collected Death Eaters had disapparated. "Why wouldn't he let me question her?"

"Because it's not your job," Sirius supplied softly. "You're not an auror, and frankly you did an amazing thing defending yourself against them for as long as you did, now they're down they need to be in Azkaban as quick as possible, simple as. If they're questioned, it'll be by aurors or the Wizengamot."

"But one more sentence-!" she cried, running a hand through her hair roughly. "I'm sick of this. I'm so fucking _sick _of it!"

Sirius put a hand on her shoulder, and she shrugged it off without acknowledging him, instead leaving the floor as quickly as she could. She did _not _want comfort right now, she wanted to punch—or better yet kill—something. Violently. She charged out of the department store by a back exit since she was sure the front one would be crowded with muggles and Ministry officials, and stormed down the street, walking with her head down and not having any idea what direction she was heading. After she'd walked for about a mile in a fine temper, she began to calm down. And to notice, via the hairs on the back of her neck, that she was once again being followed. But this time it was by a large, shaggy black dog. Knowing there was no chance of her outrunning him, she tried anyway, breaking into a spring across Regent's Park when she got to it. At the other side she collapsed into a bench, completely out of breath. Padfoot loped up and sat about ten feet away, panting a little bit.

With a sigh, Helena beckoned him closer. He licked her hand and then put his head in her lap so she could scratch his ears. "Sorry."

A comforting rumble from his chest was the reply, along with another lick.

"Am I being unreasonable," she asked, "wanting to know what I'm supposed to know? It keeps almost getting me killed, Padfoot, and every time I try and bring it up, everyone changes the subject."

He had no answer for that at all.

"There's something else, too. We were in the pub before we left, so we could have been overheard, but when Lily told me we were going into muggle London, we were alone. And when we were in the dress job, Alice mentioned she told _her_ amongst friends. I don't see, unless they were in the Leaky Cauldron by chance, how they could have known where to find us. Unless…"

He growled, deep and long, and she knew he'd grasped her meaning. He didn't transform, and she didn't add anymore. They simply sat for a moment, girl and dog, each looking as worried as the other. Finally she patted him on the head and said, "Come on, Padfoot. Let's go home."

* * *

She was still brooding on it, Sirius thought, observing Helena carefully through the corner of his eye. She hadn't said anything more on the subject, but he knew they were both dwelling on what had happened—and _how _it had happened. The word 'traitor' kept rebounding off the insides of Sirius' skull, but when he tried to apply it to anyone he knew, it simply didn't stick. Besides, there was no guarantee that there _was _a traitor—Helena had said it herself that they could have been overheard in the pub, and it was very possible. The Cauldron was popular with all wizards, whatever side they were on. There was just a chance that…

Anyway, at the moment it wasn't his biggest concern. That was the fact that Helena wasn't letting it go. She wasn't accepting the excuses they were feeding her anymore, especially since Vines had been horrifyingly close to telling her everything. And he couldn't tell her that there was nothing to worry about; the Death Eaters had followed them into muggle London, they were that desperate to get their hands on her. And he knew her well enough to know that her mind, like his, was repeating Sophia's prematurely-ended sentence over and over, finishing it with any number of combinations. How long until she hit on 'veins'? She was more than intelligent enough to. He needed to distract her with something.

"We should have a dinner party."

She looked at him quizzically. "We should what?"

Sirius was equally stunned that that had come out of his mouth too, since he'd no recollection of actually thinking of it. If he'd thought of it he certainly would _not _have said it. But now that he had, it seemed as good an idea as any. "Dinner."

"You said dinner _party_. You. You said 'dinner' and 'party' _together_. Are you feeling alright, Padfoot?"

"Fine," he said patiently, "now what about it?"

She shrugged. "Why not? Who were you thinking?"

"The obvious."

"And Frank and Alice."

"Sure."

"No need to ask who's doing the cooking," she said, looking amused. "But that leaves you to the hosting. Alright, I'll start looking at a menu. Is four courses too much, do you think, or would it be better just to go with three?"

He rolled his eyes. "Three. Don't think we need a fish course."

"Alright. I'll start planning!" She got up and left the living room, heading for the kitchen and the few recipe books she had. Most of them, unusually, were written by muggle chefs, and had been gifts from Lily. Helena's favourite was a volume written entirely in French, its pages full of complex recipes and occasionally stained with ingredients.

Sirius grinned at her sudden enthusiasm for the idea. Right up until the point when she said, "You should get started conjuring a dining table then. And send the owls out! And we'll need some decent dinner service!"

_Bloody hell_.

Over the next two days it dawned on Sirius that he'd not actually got himself a distracted woman and a dinner party. What he'd got was somehow a middle-aged housewife and some kind of royal banquet, the way she was acting. He couldn't claim the idea hadn't worked—when not at the hospital it was all Helena talked about. Even their sex had taken on a food element, though naturally he wasn't going to be complaining if she wanted to bring melted chocolate into the bedroom again. At all. Of one thing he was certain though: the food tonight was going to be extremely good.

Helena was in the kitchen—where else?—when he walked in there, somehow looking immaculate in spite of all she'd had to do today. He knocked on the door as he came in, then poked his head inside cautiously. The last time he'd gone into the kitchen this afternoon, he'd had a baking tray chucked at his head. Instead he found Helena leaning against the work-surface with a glass of wine, sitting quite at her ease with the cream for dessert whipping itself. She was dressed in black knee-high boots and a halterneck black dress, looking unutterably sexy.

She rolled her eyes at his nervous entrance. "It's safe, Padfoot."

"Just checking. Keep your hands where I can see them."

"Just come in, idiot."

He did so, and opened the oven a crack. "Smells good."

"Of course it does. It's boeuf bourginion."

"I have a request."

"I'm still in the middle of your last request."

"Can I have my Helena back tomorrow?"

She blinked. "Your Helena?"

"Yeah. I can cope with the unreasonable temper and the ridiculous demands and the frankly alarming habit of thinking you're invincible, but I can't be dealing with this weird…Babbity Rabbity person you've turned into."

"What has that story got to do with anything?"

"Seriously, Hellfire."

"And what do you mean _unreasonable _temper?" she demanded, putting her wine down. "Has it occurred to you that if I weren't living with a man so bloody irritating he makes me want to pull my eyebrows out sometimes, I might not-"

He cut her off by kissing her deeply, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. She reciprocated wholeheartedly, heat rising quickly between them. He pulled his mouth from hers long enough to ask, "How long have we got?"

"Long enough," she gasped, hands already at his belt.

She had it undone in no time while his hands pulled her underwear off and pushed her skirt up. She wrapped her legs around his hips as his hands slid under her arse and pulled her forward onto his cock. Helena's cry of pleasure echoed around the tiled kitchen. The rhythm was by necessity fast and hard, but that didn't stop either of them from being sucked in, animal instincts overwhelming conscious thought. Both felt the same thing in moments like this. Increasingly Sirius felt this was _right_. That she _fit. _That this woman was _his. _Blindly, his lips found hers, her breath hot and ragged against his mouth as she panted and moaned in pleasure. Within moments they were both coming undone, Helena first. Her cries built in steady waves as her muscles grew tenser and tenser around him, then she shuddered into orgasm, her whole body trembling as she came undone around him. With a low groan of her name, he came as well, spilling into her in a haze of unfeeling pleasure.

Helena's fingers running through his hair were his first clear sensation on returning to the land of the living, and then her laughter, low and clear. "Did I wear you out?" she asked, planting another kiss on his mouth.

"Just temporarily," he assured with a grin.

They both froze as the doorbell sounded. "Shit!"

He put her down, and she grimaced. "Can you answer the door? I have to…clean up."

He nodded and went to answer the door to the others as Helena slipped up the back stairs to the bathroom. The rest of the Marauders and Lily had arrived, so they stuck with the wine until the others turned up. A few minutes afterward, Helena came back down looking just a little bit flushed in the cheeks. It suited her very much.

Everything was going fine until Lily raised her chin and sniffed. "Um, can anyone else smell something…burning?"

Helena's eyes widened. "Shit, my meringue!"

She rushed out to the kitchen for a moment while the others laughed. Lily raised an eyebrow. "Seems unlike Helena to forget that."

Sirius kept quiet. He knew exactly why she'd forgotten the pudding, and he wasn't about to tell the others. Not just before dinner.

"Whose idea was this anyway?" Prongs asked. "Can't imagine you proposed a dinner party."

"I did actually. Needed something to distract her. She was thinking about it too much for my liking."

"We can't hide it from her forever," Lily said lowly.

"Yes we can," Sirius quelled. "We have to."

"Padfoot, there's no way to tell-"

"Done talking about this, Prongs. Nobody. Tells. Helena."

Alice and Frank arrived last but not least, and just after that Helena reappeared, happy that she'd managed to rescue her pavlova. Neither Frank nor Alice looked happy though, Sirius noted. "What's up?"

Frank sighed. "The Ministry. They're being wankers. They've decided to indict you—Alice, Helena and Lily, for breaching the Act of Secrecy."

"They can't do that!" Helena exclaimed. "We're allowed to use magic in front of muggles if its a life-threatening situation. I'd say the fact that we had Death Eaters attacking us counts!"

"Well unfortunately the Ministry doesn't think it does. They think that because no Unforgivables were used, or attempted, it counts as a breach. And of course the Death Eaters we have in custody are lying and saying you attacked first, so their coming after you three."

"Shit," hissed Lily softly.

"Are they actually going to arrest us?" Helena asked.

"No. But in the morning you're likely to get a summons to appear before the Wiznegamot. That's the talk on the pumpkin vine anyway."

"Utter bollocks."

Everyone agreed with Helena, but there didn't seem to be that much they could do about it. They were all thinking the same thing though: that Voldemort's reach must extend far into the heart of government indeed if he could order them arrested. It wasn't the first time Death Eaters had attacked in unexpected places, yet no one else had been blamed for defending themselves. If they were hauled in front of the Wizengamot, was it likely that they'd be able to avoid imprisonment, or worse? Sirius found his fists tightening. He would not let that happen, to any of them.

"Come on," he said grimly, "let's eat, shall we?"

No one really enjoyed Helena's starter as much as it deserved, though by the time the main course was cleared away wine and good company had worked their magic extremely well—they were all calmer and even laughing just in time for dessert, the pavlova that their…exertions had almost ruined; it in came in creamy glory, topped with raspberries and passionfruit. Unfortunately the juice from both fruits had mingled with the cream and turned it a sort of reddish hue…

"I know, I know," she said as she put it down, "it looks like a horrendous Quidditch accident. But I promise it'll taste delicious."

It did taste delicious, though in Sirius' opinion it could have been made slightly better if there were no one else in the house and he were licking it off Helena's body, but it was okay like this too. After dinner, the Longbottoms had to leave, citing early mornings and a long day. He didn't blame them for their really bad excuses; after what had happened today he didn't blame them for their need to reconnect with each other; that had pretty much been what the fast and furious sex had been about earlier. Making sure they were still the same as they had been. Would it get boring, once peace had resumed, he wondered? Looking at Helena, though, he knew she could never get boring. _Even if she tried_.

Helena had barely exited the room after clearing the plates when Sirius could himself unexpectedly cornered by Lily and James._ "Well?" _

He looked up. "Well what?"

"Are you and Helena-?" Lily tilted her head meaningfully toward the kitchen door.

"Are we what?"

"Are you together? Properly, I mean, not just sleeping together."

"Um…"

"Oh, come on, Padfoot. You've been in love with her for ages, surely you've told the girl by now."

Sirius looked between James and Lily. "You two are both insane."

"That's a no then is it?"

"I am _not _in love with her."

"Would you or would you not die for her?"

"Of course I would, but I'd die for _you_, you great prune."

"You love her," Lily stated in her Head Girl voice.

"I don't."

"Do you watch her sleep?" James asked.

"What?"

"After you've…y'know, do you watch her sleep? Do you purposefully stay awake just to watch her sleep?"

"No. Well, I- Not _deliberately,_ sometimes she just falls asleep before I do and- Oh whatever," he snapped, seeing the smug expressions appear on their faces. "Neither of you have any idea what you're talking about."

"Yes we do," Lily said calmly. "We know love."

To prevent himself throwing up, Sirius left the room to help Helena. When James came in twenty minutes later to get a refill, he had a feeling he'd not helped his case to be found doing the washing up.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy this chapter - and can I just say, for yesterday, Happy Canada Day if you are from 'The True North Strong and Free' as one of my Canadian friends puts it, and Happy Independence Day for Monday, if you are American. **

**Chapter Twenty Three **

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," Lily announced suddenly one evening.

They were cuddled together on the sofa, fire in the grate and both reading; Lily _Beadle the Bard _and James _Moby Dick_.

"Going about what the wrong way?" he asked absently.

"Helena and Padfoot. Maybe we should be getting _her_ to confess how _she_ feels. Might be easier."

James cast a doubtful look at his fianceé. "You have met her haven't you? Besides, at least Padfoot_ knows _how he feels, even if he's being obstinate. Helena has no idea."

"She does though."

"Of course she does. Just look at the way she lights up when he comes into the room. She loves him. And they need each other. She'll definitely need him soon, even if she only loves him at the moment."

Lily nodded. "She's still suspicious, you know. And you have to admit the explanations we've been giving her aren't exactly watertight."

"Are we doing the right thing at all," he asked, "keeping it from her?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I don't want her to find out. It's not worth the risk. What would knowing offer her?"

"The truth?" James shrugged. "It might be enough for her. It doesn't have to be taken any further, and if we assume she reacted the way she did because she was afraid of putting us in harm's way…really, her _not _knowing is putting us in harm's way. The Death Eaters don't care that she doesn't know, they're coming after her anyway, and us by extension. We can't tell her to be even more careful with no real reason, maybe she'd understand if she knew the real reason."

* * *

He was watching Helena sleep again. Not intentionally, but she was lying there looking so calm and peaceful that it was difficult to actually look away. And whenever he closed his eyes, he wasn't sure if her eyes then opened, and it seemed…rude not to look at her as well. It was the fault of the summer as well, of course. August had been long and very sultry, and even this time of night it was scorching hot and incredibly still, the promise of thunder clinging like a second skin. It was definitely the right season for romance. If he cared about romance of course. Which he didn't.

A wonderfully cool breeze suddenly stirred the room, banishing any such ridiculous thoughts. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he manouevred Helena out of his arms and shut his eyes resolutely. She wasn't that incredible she was worth missing out on sleep for. He cracked open an eye. Nope. Not that beautiful.

He was about to close his eyes again when a silvery-white glow came from the window, and flew in from the window, perching on the bed-head. He glanced sharply at Helena. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing was steady. He looked again at the Patronus. It looked calmly back. Was she doing that in her sleep?

The bird opened its beak. And proceeded to recite the leading story from the _Prophet._ Word for word. When it was finished, there was a pause of about five seconds. Then without opening her eyes Helena smiled and said, "I told you I could do it before the wedding."

The Patronus faded as she looked at him finally. She smiled smugly. "Hmm, you look as if someone ghasted your flabber, Padfoot."

"I'm impressed, Hellfire," he managed.

"I should hope so."

"I don't- When did you even cast that?'

"Before you had your wicked way with me," she grinned. "Half my attention was on that, unfortunately, but oddly enough orgasm enhanced the effect. It was easy, in fact, with all the happy rushing around my system."

He eyed her in continuing amazement. "There's nothing wrong with my memory, is there—because I remember you not being that great at Charms, much less doing something impossible with them."

She shrugged. "I wasn't. But I've gotten better."

He frowned momentarily. Yes, she had gotten better, but at a _lot _of things recently. Not just her Charms, but her potions too, had become almost flawless every time, the first time around, some of them. When she'd told him that her very first Blood-Replenishing Potion had been an unqualified success, it had struck him as odd then too, and now this. To do it perfectly while she was doing something else—and to do it so quickly? That was bordering on impossible.

"How?"

Her shoulders moved up and down again, but she didn't seem concerned, only eager to move onto the next step. "So am I ready for actual transformation now?"

"Well…you're closer to it anyway."

"So…?"

"Alright, we'll start tomorrow. You sure you've got a full grasp of what it's like to be inside your patronus?'

"Yes."

"Alright then. It's not just leaping straight into the transformation though, you should know that."

"Then what is it?"

"Exploring everything."

She frowned. "I thought I already had."

"With your imagination," he elaborated. "You have to list all of the aspects of the falcon and then imagine doing them until you know how to. So hunting, flying-"

"How I am supposed to know how to _fly _until I actually do so?"

"The same way I learned to run on four legs instead of two. Imagine it." It was vital she understand this. Animagus transformations were impossible if you didn't have imagination.

Helena nodded thoughtfully, apparently seriously considering it. "Well, I can't ask for a teacher and ignore his advice, can I? Alright, imagination it is."

"It won't take you long."

"Of course not."

* * *

"There's got to be more to it, I'm telling you."

Finishing his sandwich, James wiped his mouth with a paper serviette. "Evidence?"

They were sat on a bench in St James's Park, having decided to make the best of the last sunshine of the year and taken their lunch break outside the ministry. Sirius had a BLT next to him, still in its wrapper. He wasn't hungry.

"She's just gotten _better_," he exclaimed. "All of a sudden, without warning, it's almost like her magic has increased. Like she's become a more powerful witch."

"That's impossible."

"Yeah, except if subconsciously…"

James pushed his glasses up and squinted at his best friend. "Subconsciously?"

"What if she knows?"

"She doesn't."

"Yeah, but what if some part of her does? Voldemort's an evil bastard but he's got power in shit-loads. Stands to reason his daughter would too."

"What, so your theory is that while there weren't Death Eaters coming after her, she had some kind of block on her true power, and now that her life's in danger that block's gone?"

"In a nutshell."

"And of course you're worried she's going to get suspicious about that."

"Yes."

"And you think she's intelligent enough to come to the same conclusion you have."

"I _know _she is."

"And you think if she does you'll lose her."

Sirius glared. "Yes."

"And you don't want to do that."

"No."

"Because you love her."

"Ye- No!" he yelled, shooting to his feet. "Merlin's beard, Prongs, would you give it a rest? I get it, you and Lily are headed straight for wedded bliss, but maybe it's not for the rest of us, okay?"

James looked incredibly unimpressed. "No, not really."

"What do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything to _me_, just be bloody honest with yourself, and above all, be honest with Helena!"

"I _am _honest with her!"

"Then why haven't you told her how you feel?"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"Yes, there is!"

"Why are you so fussed about it?"

"Because life is short, and right now I'm finding reminders of that everywhere I look!"

"Look, I know your dad-"

"You're a Gryffindor, Sirius, so don't start acting like a coward. It doesn't suit you," James said acidly.

"Fuck off!"

"Fine, I will."

He was as good as his word; chucking the crusts of his sandwich into the nearest bin, Prongs stalked across the park without a look backward. Sirius was left to aim a vicious kick at a nearby pigeon, which bobbed out of the way without even the courtesy of being sufficiently frightened to fly off.

He didn't go back into work, which would probably lead to a whole heap of trouble with Mad-Eye, but right now he didn't care. Not once, in seven—almost eight years—of friendship, had he and James ever actually fought, at least not like that. But then it wasn't like the situation wasn't emotionally…fraught, of course. What with Jasper and the wedding and the _fucking Death Eaters_ all the time and Hellfire… Actually, now he came to think about it, it was a wonder they hadn't had a slanging match before now. He should apologise. But then equally surely James should apologise to him. Shouldn't he?

Helena didn't think so, when he gave her the edited version of what had happened later that evening. He'd left out most of the details, of course.

"Padfoot, his father's about to die. My father _is _dead, and it's not easy to deal with. And for Heaven's sake, I hated my father. James loves his, and he's watching him suffer a very long and very painful death that even magic can't do anything about." She sighed, stirring pasta through a carbonara sauce for dinner. "And you told him to 'fuck off'?"

"He was winding me up!"

"Well not deliberately I'm sure."

"No, this was deliberate."

"Was it?" she asked. "Think about it." When he looked at her blankly, she huffed out another sigh and explained. Her tone indicated she thought it was totally obvious; he thought it was anything but. "Look, you know what it's like when you're all tense about something you can't do anything about, but knowing that doesn't make all the negative emotion go away, does it?"

"I suppose not."

"So it has to find an outlet, and once it does, the floodgates open and it all comes pouring out. He probably isn't even that annoyed at _you_. He just feels helpless."

"Well he could have picked someone else to let it out on," Sirius muttered.

"Like who? He can't do it to Lily, they're getting married in less than a fortnight and he wouldn't want to drive her away."

"Do me a favour, Hellfire, and stop making sense for one second, would you?"

She smirked and dished up, piling a bowl high with spaghetti and plonking it in front of him. Since he'd missed out on lunch, he ate with gusto and then helped himself to seconds. Once that plate was empty as well, he spoke again. "So what you're saying is I should be more understanding?"

"You should."

"And that I should apologise."

"Give the man a broomstick," she announced, smiling.

"Alright, I will. Thanks, Hellfire."

"Anytime. God knows you need someone to tell you these things."

"Okay, shut up now."

"You know, I don't think I will," she grinned. "You know I like humiliating you at every opportunity."

"Have the Ministry been in contact yet?"

Her smile slid away. "Not yet. I keep expecting an owl any second."

"There are ways we could avoid it you know."

"Like what? Are you suggesting I go on the run?"

"It's a thought." He smiled and shifted his chair closer, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "How about it? You and me chasing around the globe and going wherever we want, doing whatever we want."

She smiled, but missed that he was only half-joking. "And how would we travel? Broom or floo?"

"Hell, we'd be fugitives so why not carpet?"

Helena chuckled. "Alright, carpet it is. You can ride that and I'll fly alongside."

"Hey, why don't I get to fly?"

"Okay. We'll steal a dragon on the way out of the country."

"Excellent plan."

"I thought so."

"Well, I suppose all that remains is to pack. Care to help me?" she asked, a sly gleam in her blue eyes.

"With pleasure."

With _great _pleasure, as it turned out—there was nothing quite like damn good sex to shake off the blues of a bad day.

Of course, the bad day came right back when an owl tapped on the window of Helena's bedroom, then hooted plaintively when they failed to let it in immediately.

Helena went tense in his arms, and she swallowed as the owl tapped again. He kissed her. "I wasn't joking. If it is from them, we'll run. I don't care how far."

She got up and walked over to the window, opening it and taking the parchment from the owl, which idn't fly away, and only hopped inside to perch on the sill. It obviously expected an immediate answer. Frowning, Helena opened the scroll. "It's from Lily."

He sat up. "Is she alright? Is Prongs alright?"

"They're both fine, but… Oh no. Jasper passed away earlier. Died in his sleep."

"Shit," he said softly.

"Lily wants us both over there. James…isn't handling it well and she's not sure she can comfort both him and Mrs Potter at the same time. She asks if we can go to Godric's Hollow tomorrow morning."

"Write back and say we'll be there by eight."

She nodded and picked up a quill from her desk, quickly inking a reply and attaching it to the owl. It hooted once more and then took off into the night. She turned back to Sirius with a sad smile. "So much for our plan to run away together."

* * *

The wedding had been postponed, seemed to be the first concrete decision. At least it was the first thing to come out of Lily's mouth, though it was immediately countermanded by both James and Mrs Potter.

"It's the last thing Jasper would want you to do, dear," Mrs Potter said, patting Lily's hand.

"Mum's right," James nodded stoically. "It would be the wrong thing to do, completely."

"Cup of tea before anyone makes any decisions, how does that sound?" Helena said forcefully.

She moved over to the kettle and poking it with her wand. It emitted a sharp whistle and a funnel of steam from the spout. For a few moments the only sounds were the clinking of copper spout against chipped mug, and Sirius pouring the milk out. He did it the wrong way of course, putting the milk into the cups before Helena had poured the tea, but no one seemed to mind. Though nobody drank either. Silence wrapped the house like a too-tight blanket, suffocating everyone in their grief.

Lily spoke again. "Sweetheart, I know it's far too early to be thinking about this, but we can't get married until after your father's buried. You have to see that."

"Yeah, yeah I do. Of course I do," he said quickly.

"So we don't really have a choice. It's eight days away, we can't-"

"Then we'll bury him quickly, yeah?"

Mrs Potter burst into loud, noisy sobs, quickly stifled by her handkerchief. Lily stood, but looked immediately torn, between comforting her fiancé and comforting her future mother-in-law. Helena helped her out, taking the grieving widow and rubbing her back in soothing circles. There was nothing she could say to make it better, so she stayed silent and put a shot of Firewhiskey in her tea.

James now had tears in his eyes. "Mum, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that- I-It's just-"

Still wordless, she took his hand and squeezed it. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment of grief, and Helena looked at Sirius, indicated for him to answer it. "What am I supposed to say?' he whispered.

"The truth," she murmured back, eyes full of sadness. "Tell them that the Potters are overcome by the immediacy of the tragedy and that it's too soon for visitors."

"Alright." He kissed her temple, inhaling the comforting scent of her hair for a second before he left to answer the door.

By lunchtime, they'd managed to get Mrs Potter to stop crying, and James to stop lashing out at everything Lily said, though he still did so at Sirius and Helena. They took it, knowing that all he said was spoken out of grief, anger that could not be directed at a dead father. By dinner, which Helena made and which nobody ate, it had been accepted that the wedding must be postponed, by at least a week if not more. Tired by grief and without food to sustain them, both James and his mother feel asleep in their armchairs by ten 'o' clock, faces pale and eyes puffy from crying.

Lily was yawning too, so Helena stood. "We should go."

"Do you have to?"

"There's nowhere for us to sleep here, Lily," she smiled apologetically. "We'll come back tomorrow if you want us to. Just send me an owl and we'll apparate here, okay?"

She nodded and gave them both a tearful kiss on the cheek, then led them outside to the back garden so they could disapparate without disturbing the sleeping Potters. As she shut the door on them, Helena let out a deep sigh. "God, poor Jasper."

"At least his misery is over," Sirius said, though the words sounded hollow even to him. "It's Mrs Potter and Prongs I feel sorry for."

* * *

Helena took the main bulk of the tedium that rearranging the wedding details: rebooking the church, the catering, the flowers et cetera took time, as well as the sending out of innumerable owls. She wasn't sure Lily had even noticed that she was doing it, since beyond changing the date to September the twenty second, she had not mentioned the wedding at all.

_But then that could be because she's too busy arranging the funeral…_Helena thought, tapping her quill idly on the parchment in front of her.

She had contacted most of the wedding guests, and almost all of them had replied saying they understood completely and could still make it. She knew whatever she was doing, Lily was doing the opposite. Instead of postponing an order of flowers, she had been scrambling around trying to find a florist that could provide their services for the funeral of Mr Potter, which was to take place in less than a week now, though in a different church to the one she and James were to get married in.

In those rare moments when she had a spare minute or two to herself, she quickly found that her mind wouldn't settle to relaxation, that it was impossible. The only time she actually found sleep was when she and Sirius had screwed each other into exhaustion. When he wasn't around, or at work, she had to find another way to occupy herself, so she chose her animagus attempts. She was getting better, or at least she thought she was. Sirius had told her to use her imagination, so she had been doing—sitting in the library going over and over in her mind how it would feel to be a bird, and a bird of prey at that. Sirius joked that she was already pretty much a predator, and she thought he could be right. Over the last few days she had been experiencing heightened senses in the oddest moments, especially at work. Wherever there was sickness (or especially blood), she could smell it, and her eyesight had gotten so sharp that she had managed to see a money spider climbing up the shoulder of a wizard in black robes—not unusual, except that she had been twenty feet away, on the other side of the ward. She had also begun to dream of being in flight too, soaring above fields and cliffs that she was sure she had never seen. In the morning when she woke up, the muscles of her shoulders ached as though she'd actually been doing it.

It compounded in the day of Jasper's funeral, as all the guests were arriving in the church. A black-draped James and his mother were greeting most of the guests, or at least shaking hands with them and nodding politely at consolations offered. As they were waiting in the pews for the service to start, Helena's eyes picked up a faint shuffle, just above the general human noise. It was coming from the opposite side of the church, high above the pews and almost in the rafters. Frowning, she looked up, trying to pinpoint where it might be coming from. It was a mouse, tiny and pitter-pattering its way across a stone shelf high on the wall of the church. Once she'd spotted it, it was as if her eyes _zoomed _it; far from being a tiny, indistinct blob of grey against an equally grey wall, she saw its bright black eyes, its small pink paws and the hints of brown in its fur.

"Helena?"

She could see everything, every _hair _on its body, the whiskers twitching and nose going this way and that to sense any potential danger.

"Hellfire."

Well, it wouldn't see her coming-

"Helena!"

She drew in a shuddering breath and refocused on Sirius; he looked worried. "Are you alright? You're flushed."

"I- I can see that mouse, over there," she pointed.

"Over where?"

"There, on the shelf. Can't you see it?"

He squinted hard, and finally nodded. "Sort of. Blurry little grey thing."

She shook her head. "No, Padfoot, I mean I can _see _it. I can see everything about it, I-"

A sudden swell of noise from the people in the church, and whether it actually happened or not she couldn't be sure, since she was overwhelmed by it, sickeningly dizzy and having to clutch at her head, nails digging into her scalp.

"What's the matter, what's wrong?" Sirius looked around, almost as if he expected Death Eaters to be popping up in the middle of almost all of the members of the Order.

She shook her head and gritted her teeth until it passed, which it did presently. She sat up slowly. "Nothing… Nothing, I'm alright. Just had a funny turn."

"A funny turn?" he repeated. "You've gone completely white, you look like a ghost's just walked through you."

"I think-" she looked around and lowered her voice, "I think it's something to do with this animagus thing. I've been doing what you said and it's like I'm becoming more falcon-like. I think I might be ready to try it."

"You're not," he said immediately.

"What's the alternative," she asked, "me doing things like this all the time? I have to try, Sirius, unless you want me to transform in my sleep and give you a thorough clawing. I don't want to do that."

"Well no, I don't want you to either."

"Then let me try. Please."

"Well, okay. But don't blame me if you get stuck halfway."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to my beta, CC. **

**Chapter Twenty Four**

Sirius added another block of wood to the fire and sat down cross-legged opposite Helena. She frowned. "I don't understand why it needs to be so hot. Why can't we open a window?"

She went to get up to do just that, but his hand on her forearm stopped her. "Trust me. You're uncomfortable right?"

"_Very_."

"Good."

"How is that good?"

"You need to be uncomfortable in your own skin, in order to make it easier to escape into another one. A form which is new, cooler, will be more appealing to your instincts. Both they and your brain need to be working together on this, otherwise that first transformation will never happen right."

Helena nodded and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then lifted the mass of her hair away from her neck in an ineffectual effort to cool her skin. They were both already naked, having come down from the bedroom about twenty minutes before this. There was no possible way to cool themselves down. Not until she did this.

"Okay, go for it."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah. You've done all the preparation you can. Close your eyes, picture the bird and push against the barrier until you break through. It's in there, Helena, you just have to pull it out."

She nodded and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. He watched her apprehensively, having no idea how she would handle this. When he'd done it, it had been mostly bravado, approaching it like a dare, not losing face in front of his mates. He'd thrown himself into it with, what seemed now, stupid abandon. It had all worked out all right in the end, but when watching someone he cared about do it, he knew he should have been more cautious. So much could go wrong, and it worried him that it could go wrong with Helena.

It didn't seem to be going wrong, though—in fact it seemed to be going very _right_. Her toes, resting under her knees, were lengthening, thinning while the nails sharpened and curved. Her middle toe disappeared completely as her big toe twisted out of place, swivelling around to the back of her foot. His gaze moved up her arms now; by her wrists, skin covered itself in feathers while her forearm widened, thinning. Her shoulders moved backward, dislocating with fairly grisly noises. The process seemed to get faster once her wings were in place, and within another ten seconds she was there. The last thing to go was her face; nose and mouth merging together to erupt in a hooked beak. Once the change was complete, she regarded him calmly.

Well, he'd been right. She was graceful. Her eyes were still blue, which would be her distinguishing mark he thought; a deep, soft cobalt where they should be yellow and glaring. She was an eagle; massive, taloned and hook-beaked. Golden plumage caught the firelight, glittering when she flapped her wings with great, slow beats. The movement seemed to take her as much by surprise as it did him; with a whistle of distress, she did it again, but too fast and too powerfully. She overbalanced, and not knowing how the tail worked, or how to keep her clawed feet, fell backward. Distressed, she carried on flapping her wings and screeching.

If she carried on like this, then there was a chance she could forget how to come back again, who she was.

"Helena. Hellfire, calm down."

He kept his voice low, and hearing it, the frenzied flapping calmed slightly. He kept repeating her name, to bring her back to herself. By the time he approached, she was completely still, knowing that she needed help to right herself.

Keeping his hands and face clear of those wickedly sharp talons, Sirius knelt at her side and grasped her body as gently as he could. The feathers, while those of an adult bird, were downy soft and delicate. He righted her as gently as he could, stroking her head with two fingers. "You're beautiful."

He moved back to sitting opposite her. "Now you have to change back. You'll be able to test your wings and everything else later, Helena, for now you have to change back before you forget how. The first transformations are the hardest, after this you'll be fine."

She bobbed her head in something which could have been a nod.

"It's the opposite process. Think about how being human feels. Think about brushing your hair. Think about writing with a quill. Eating. Your friends. Remember the feel of your wand in your hand."

Slowly, she began to shift form again. Her wings, folded against her back, moved forward and down slightly. Her legs elongated and thickened, the talons retracting into toes. For a second she wavered; her skin became feather-pattered once more as the beak separated out into nose and mouth, but then she prevailed. The feather-patterns faded, and finally hair flowed down her back again, and then there was a fully-human Helena standing in front of him.

When she swayed, he jumped up to catch her. "Dizzy," she whispered.

"It'll pass. The process takes a lot of energy at first. You need to get some rest."

She shook head head, still clinging to his shoulders. "I want to do it again."

"Tomorrow. You need to rest."

She shook her head and tried to walk, only to stumble. Sirius caught her and then scooped her into his arms without leaving any room for argument. He carried her up the stairs to her own room. By the time he put her in bed, she was already half-asleep. He pulled the covers over her and kissed her forehead. She grabbed his hand before he pulled away though.

"Stay?" she murmured sleepily. "Please?"

With no chance of refusing, Sirius smiled. "You'll have to shift over then."

She wriggled left, and then wriggled right again almost immediately once he'd gotten into bed. With her hair covering his chest in a cool silkiness, she gave a sigh and said, "M'favourite person…know that?"

He smiled. "Keep a secret?" There was no answer; she was already fast asleep. He kissed her temple. "You're mine."

* * *

The smell of bacon and eggs woke Sirius from sleep the next morning, and he opened his eyes to see a tray of breakfast on the bedside table next to him. Along with an eagle with the _Daily Prophet _in its beak. He took it when she held it out to him, then changed back and slid back into bed.

"You were right, it was easier the second time."

"You tried it by yourself?"

She winked. "No. I succeeded by myself."

She leaned over him and snaffled a piece of bacon from 'his' plate, munching it with none of her usual ladylike grace. It occurred to him that maybe him moving in had been bad for her. For her table manners at least.

"So pretty confident then?" he commented through a mouthful of toast.

"Mm-hmm. I do have a question though. How do I learn clothes? I mean obviously you can choose to take your clothes with you but I've got no idea how? I mean, are they even clothes, or are they…part of your skin?"

"No, no, they're still clothes, still made out of material. Skin clothes would be…weird."

She looked relieved. "Oh good. How do you take clothes with you then?"

"I think you should focus on perfecting the transformation first. You need to be able to do it within ten seconds. Death Eaters pursuing you need to turn a corner and find you _gone_."

She nodded. "Alright. Who should we tell, d'you think?"

"At them moment, no one."

"Not James or Lily, or Dumbledore?"

"No. The fewer people know, the safer you are. And besides, even Dumbledore doesn't know about me and the others. How would we explain you?"

"Fair enough. No one finds out."

When he went to lie down again, Helena shook her head. "I know it's Saturday, Sirius, but we both still have things to do, remember?"

"Shit, really?"

"Unfortunately so."

"I still think the plan to run away together is watertight." He frowned, propping himself up on his elbow. "And to be honest I think going to Godric's Hollow at all is a bit stupid. One of your best friends is getting married, it's the first place the MLEOs will look for you."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"I might be. What if I am?"

The next second he found himself pinned underneath Helena, her body the length of his. "Dangerous."

Between her warm thighs, his cock twitched, and an unwilling grin spread across her face. He leaned up slightly, touched her nose with his. "How dangerous?"

She nuzzled along his neck, up to his ear, then nipped his ear lobe with her teeth. "Very."

He took her legs in his hands, putting them either side of his body, one leg in between both of hers. She moved her torso down to his, finding his mouth again. He ran his fingers through her hair, stirring the air with violets. Helena's tongue teased his, drawing a low groan from him. She moved her hips up and down, rubbing herself against his thigh until moisture leaked onto his skin. Lining herself up, Helena let him pull her down onto his cock. She moaned loudly, her blue eyes closed in pleasure. He bucked up into her as hard as he could, was rewarded when her eyes snapped open, locking on his.

"Not slow," he said lowly, biting her bottom lip briefly. "Not gentle. Not today."

She smiled, gaze lit with promise. He groaned as she clenched around him. In the next movement she slammed her pelvis down, causing him to go deeper than ever into her, brushing against her cervix. Their hips met with bruising force, then again and again. He sat up, clutching her back and digging his fingers, marking the skin there. Helena did not seem to care, or else she was digging her fingernails into his shoulders that hard out of revenge. Orgasm was too close to care about that though—together, he and Helena climaxed, loudly and with great zeal.

He collapsed back on the bed, pulling her down with him with both of them breathing hard. Lost in post-orgasmic bliss, Helena murmured something he did not quite catch, but the warmth and emotion in her tone made his heart beat faster anyway.

Half an hour passed before either of them felt the inclination to move, and then it was Helena, and only then reluctantly. "I have to get up. Lily'll go kill me if I'm late."

"Yep, probably."

A pause. "There's so much to do."

"Yeah."

"You going to be alright on your own?"

"I'll be fine."

"I'm still not moving, am I?"

He tightened his arms around her slightly. "No."

She chuckled and kissed him. "Let me go."

He did so, then watched as she moved around the room, gathering some belongings into an overnight bag. "I don't see why you have to go the day before the wedding."

"To make sure the bride _sleeps_," she quipped over her shoulder. "We can't have her with bags under her eyes on the wedding photographs, can we?"

"That would be terrible," he said, rolling his eyes.

"It would for her, trust me."

Dressed now, she picked up her bag—far too small to hold everything she'd put into it—and put it over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure James isn't late, won't you?"

"I will."

She kissed him goodbye and disapparated. He glanced at the time, knowing he should get dressed too. The idea was that Kensington and Godric's Hollow would swap residents for one night. Helena would go there and James would come here, just to avoid the bad luck that would inevitably follow if James accidentally saw Lily before they were both in the church.

Sure enough, half an hour later, there was a knock on the door, followed by the sounds of it creaking open. James came into the kitchen with a frown on his face. "Not very secure, Padfoot."

"It's only enchanted to let in people it recognises. Everyone else it's locked for. You touched it when you knocked on it."

"Oh. That's clever."

"Some Charm Helena found. Have a drink," he said, throwing James a butterbeer. "So…last night of freedom."

"It's not really. All that's going to change tomorrow is… Lily's last name."

Sirius nodded, regarding him for a moment. "You're sickening, you know that?"

"I'll remind you of that when it's your turn."

"Sorry, mate, already got you beaten on that one. I'm under a strict vow _not _to marry Helena, remember?" Sirius smirked.

"Who said I was talking about Helena?" James asked, his own smile now widening.

There was a silence in which it took almost all of Sirius' cool not to blush, and then James sighed heavily. "What?"

"It's just going to be weird. Without…"

"Your dad?"

James nodded, swallowing hard. They had buried Jasper more than a fortnight ago, but understandably there still hadn't been time for anyone to adjust to his absence. They had decided to leave an empty space for him on the front pew, so that he would be there at least in spirit. "Sometimes I think…I want him to be a ghost somewhere, y'know?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just to see him and talk to him and for Mum not to be so lonely all the time. But I know how selfish that is."

"It's not selfish."

"Yes, it is. Fine when I'm around, fine while Mum is, but after that? When we're both dead, he'd be stuck. Forced to wander this plane without ever having any chance of true release. I can't wish that for him. He's moved on to where he should be."

Another silence followed—there was nothing Sirius could say, no way he could do more than sympathise. He'd never had a supportive father. Admittedly, most of the actual vicious bullying had been done by his mother, but Orion Black had never stepped in to put a stop to it. Never spoke a word in his son's favour. Had not, in the final six months of having Sirius in the house, spoken more than a dozen words to him.

"Alright," he said suddenly, and loudly, "it's the night before your wedding and you aren't nearly rat-arsed enough yet. So drink up."

* * *

"Lily, there are no pockets in this dress," Helena complained the next morning.

She was stood behind a screen in Lily's bedroom, changing into her bridesmaid gown. It fitted well, off the shoulder and deep blue, with a light blue sash which wound around the middle.

"Why would you need pockets?" Lily asked, tone puzzled.

"Where am I supposed to put my wand?"

"You're not going to be attacked, Helena. All the aurors in Britain are coming to this wedding."

Helena suppressed a snort. She wasn't going to place her faith in them—or at least not all of it. There was nothing wrong with them, she knew that, and she was equally sure they were all highly capable, but she still had a sense of foreboding about this wedding. Something was going to go wrong. And in those circumstances it would be stupid to go about unarmed. Finally she decided just to stick it down her cleavage and hope it wasn't going to fall out.

Dressed, she emerged from behind the screen and smiled at Alice. "All yours."

They had a production line going—Alice had just finished having her makeup done, Lily's hair was being coiffed, and Helena dressed first. Now it was Lily's turn for the makeup and Helena's turn for the hair. Lily's dress would, naturally, be the last thing to go on. For now it hung up on the back of the wardrobe door, the beads on it glittering invitingly. Helena sat down at the dressing table, and the brushes and combs leapt up by themselves, smoothing the frizz from her hair and sweeping it up into an elegant knot.

About forty-five minutes later, they were all ready, polished to perfection. Lily was just getting into her gown now, Mrs Potter lacing the back up. "Are we _sure _we're all ready?" she asked from behind the screen.

"For the…seventh time, Lily, yes," Alice sighed.

"Has anyone seem my perfume bottle?" Helena asked, frowning. She was sure it had been on the dressing table.

"Here," Alice said. She held the small, clear bottle out to Helena. The brunette took it, and it joined her wand down the bodice of her dress. Alice raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to put it on?"

"Later," Helena smiled. "I'll need something to cover all the sweaty dancing."

"Well?" came Lily's voice. "How do I look?"

"Like an angel," Alice smiled.

"You look gorgeous," Helena agreed. "Come on, let's get down to the church. It's eleven now; it'll take us five or ten-"

"You mean we're late?" Lily demanded, green eyes suddenly wide in horror.

Mrs Potter smiled, patting her hand. "You're the bride, dear, you're supposed to be late."

"Oh. Right. I knew that."

"Of course you did. Come on, it's going to take us about five minutes to get there."

The church was literally across the road from the cottage, and it seemed like the whole village had shut down for the wedding. There were no cars, no evidence of a muggle presence anywhere in fact. The sun was shining, there was only a light breeze and the birds were signing. Helena wasn't sure, but she felt there was a fair chance she'd stepped into a fairytale. She even forgot her feeling of anxiety.

Until the figure of St Peter, welcoming them into the church, blew up. Sharp stone splinters raining down on them, Helena swore. "Bastards!"

Without waiting for any more spells to be shot at them—though there were lots of them—Alice and Helena propelled Lily and Mrs Potter into the vestibule, then used the thick walls as cover. Alice did a head count of the Death Eaters while Helena yelled for help. She wasn't subtle about it.

"Padfoot, get the fuck out here!"

He did, along with James, Remus, Frank, Kingsley Shacklebolt and about eight other aurors. "How many?" Frank demanded of his wife.

"Fourteen. Looks like Malfoy's leading them."

"Malfoy?" Helena demanded, standing up to get a better look. Sure enough, her brother was directing the other Death Eaters. He also shot a spell at her, missing by inches when Sirius grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her down. "That son of a chimera!"

"No point in asking what they're after, I suppose," Remus said, with a glance at Helena.

"Plan of attack?"

"How many of us are there? Capable of fighting with any competency, I mean."

"Out of all the guests—twenty? Twenty-five?"

"Enough to surround them."

"Or we could split them up," James suggested. "Take them on in small groups?"

Helena nodded, agreeing instantly with him. The fact that it worked best for her had nothing to do with anything, of course… "So who takes who?"

Not ten seconds later, most of the congregation burst out of the church, wands up and firing spells in every conceivable direction. It was carnage, confusion and chaos everywhere she looked, all coalesced into one graveyard. She had no idea what the magics were that were being spat out of the end of her wand, only that most of them were spells of such potency she might have feared to use them under any other circumstances. More worryingly, some were verging on the incantations the Death Eaters were using—dark magic.

Determined that she was going to kill Lucius if she got the chance, she was darkly thrilled to find him suddenly in her path. And then suddenly the Entrail Expelling Curse was blossoming out of her wand. She knew there was no way for him to block it—but he managed it anyway. He grabbed the nearest Death Eater by the sleeve and yanked her bodily in front of the curse. The front of Helena's dress was splattered with blood and gore as the woman was eviscerated in seconds. It would take her several minutes to die, but the fight didn't last that long. With twenty five against fourteen, it could only ever have ended one way. Soon Lucius found himself at the end of Helena's wand anyway.

Panting, she looked around the cemetery. There were, that she could see, ten dead, at least four of them the good guys. Lily was over by a large stone angel, kneeling on the grass and with her wand out. Helena couldn't make out who they were healing, only their legs.

She grabbed the nearest wizard and pointed at Lucius. "Don't let him move an inch." Without waiting for an objection, she ran over the bride. "Anything I can do?"

"No, but I think I saw Kingsley hit, find him."

He had been hit, and was bleeding from a wound on his leg. She fixed it quickly, and he nodded to her. "Thank you, Miss Malfoy."

"Call me Helena."

She got up, moving back over to Lucius with her wand out. When the tip of it was pressed against his throat, she reached into her dress to pull out her 'perfume'. "Open wide, brother dear."

Sirius noticed, and frowned as she pulled the cap off. "What is that?"

"Veritaserum," she replied flatly, before administering three sprays to Lucius' open mouth.

"Helena-"

"Why does Voldemort want to kidnap or kill me?"

"To see what you know," was the emotionless reply, "or to remove a threat."

"To see what I know about what?"

"About his plans."

"Why would _I _know anything about his plans?"

"There may exist a telepathic link between you."

"Why?"

To the onlookers, Helena appeared almost as emotionless as the Death Eater she was interrogating—but her heart was pounding, and there was a loud rushing noise in her ears.

"Because of your relationship."

"I do _not _have a relationship with him!" It was not a question, therefore Lucius gave no answer. Helena took a deep breath before continuing. "What kind of…relationship, does Voldemort perceive exists between us?"

Sirius' hand closed around her forearm; he tried to tug her away. She twisted out of his grasp. "Answer me!"

"There is no perception."

"Alright, then what is-"

"Hellfire, don't. Please."

"What is-"

"I am _begging _you."

She was startled by the note of true pleading in his voice, even more startled by the real fear in his eyes. Then she shook her head. "Padfoot…I have to know." She turned to Lucius again. "What is the relationship which exists between Voldemort and myself?"

"A paternal one. He is your father."

There was a complete and sudden silence among the guests. Helena felt everyone's gaze move from the Death Eater to her face. For her part, she only looked at the bottle in her hand. Yep. Still Veritaserum. "Say that again," she ordered softly.

"A paternal relationship exists between you. He is your father. You are the Dark Lord's daughter."

The bottle fell from nerveless fingers onto the grass. She did not blink when Lucius was tied up and led away. Then a touch on her shoulder. "Hellfire?"

She looked up, and everyone facing her flinched, taking a step backward. The fear on their faces was unmasked, naked. A sudden anger reared up in her; these people _knew _her—at least two dozen of them had gone to Hogwarts with her, another dozen _worked _with her! It would almost serve them right if she did curse them!

Fear, though, fear and disbelief and horror overwhelmed everything else—and then immediately the urge to flee. Acting on it, she ran. The crowd parted easily for her, and she kept on running through the churchyard, not hearing the stunned chatter that burst from the guests as soon as she'd gone, not hearing the shouts of her friends after her. When she tripped over a low gravestone, and went sprawling, it dawned on her that simply running across Godric's Hollow would not get her far enough. She needed to be somewhere…empty. Somewhere free. Somewhere she could acknowledge and be rid of the monster now clawing at her chest.

She just about caught a flash of Sirius, charging after her, grey eyes luminous with fear, before she disapparated.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, I know I said there would be big revelations in this chapter, but by the time I got this far it was over 4000 words and this way, we have something to look forward to for the next chapter, right? And don't worry, you're not going to be reading a repeat of last time.**

**Review? Please?**


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! And thank you to CC, my beta, and LordFrieza, for all his help too :) **

**Chapter Twenty Five**

She knew he'd find her, so she didn't keep running. She didn't really want to anyway. She just needed space to think. To feel.

As a result, she was stood on a mountainside, in the highlands of Scotland. If she could have done, she would have gone to the only place she was sure of safety and protection: Hogwarts. She had even tried, though she knew it was pointless. Still in transit, the castle's shield had simply bounced her back. So now she was on the other side of the lake, opposite the school and breathing in the cold mountain air as deeply as she could.

There was a quiet cracking noise from behind her, the sound of Sirius' heavy breathing. "Helena!" As soon as he realised how close she was to the edge though, he stopped.

"So: this is why."

Why the explanations from her friends had never made sense. Why she had never fit in with her family. Why Father- Why Abraxus Malfoy had given her a pay-off. Why her parents had been murdered. Why she could brew potions perfectly after the first time reading the recipe. Why she could tackle spells she shouldn't have been contemplating at her age.

Why, for a moment there, she'd wanted to curse the living daylights out of those brainless idiots who were scared of her.

"Helena?"

She turned to him with a bitter smile. "That was the first time I'd ever brewed Veritaserum, you know."

"Come away from the edge," he said quietly.

She glanced over her shoulder, the gulf of three hundred feet yawning for her. "Don't worry, Padfoot, I'm not going to jump."

"Then come away."

She smiled again, but didn't move. "Not sure I want to do that either."

Warm fingers suddenly grasped hers. "Tough."

She looked down at his hand as he pulled her a safe distance from the cliff. "How can you touch me?"

"Don't be stupid."

"No, I mean it. How can you?" she asked.

She was more morbidly curious than anything. She didn't feel horrified anymore, or even very afraid—but she knew that anyone in their right mind would not be touching her with a ten foot broomstick right now. He should be reacting the way the wedding guests had.

"I already knew."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Dumbledore told both me and James in July. The first time they tried to take you."

"And how long had _he _known?"

"I don't know. But he did tell you."

"And is that why I tried to kill myself? Why we were no longer friends, as you said?"

"Yeah. You were being noble," he replied with a little ironic smirk.

"I was being a coward," Helena contradicted. "I won't be again."

He let out a huge sigh and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I thought you were going to-"

She shook her head and hugged back. "I'm a Gryffindor, remember? We're not cowards." She paused. "Thank you for not telling me."

"You're not angry?"

"No. For once I see it was a kinder not to tell me. It's like…a nest of vipers in my stomach. Literally. I feel sick." She did; there was a twisting, coiling mass stabbing into the walls of her stomach, and _snakes _was the only metaphor she could make of it.

Sirius immediately conjured a red bucket for her to vomit in, but she shook her head and pushed it away, though she appreciated the gesture. But losing her control for even a second would be letting it win.

"You're unnervingly calm," he told her, looking nervous. "I'd sort of prepared myself for tears and shouting. I can't handle it when you're quiet, Hellfire, it's scary."

She smiled briefly, confessing, "I think part of me is screaming. But at the same time, it's an answer. The questions have stopped in a way, that hole has been filled in." Alright, it had been filled in by toxic waste, but still filled in. "I know who I am."

Sirius did not look comforted by those words, and she understood why. There was a strange tone in her voice she'd not put there, her face was in an expression she couldn't understand. She was…intrigued. Forcing that weird thought away, she turned around, her gaze finding Hogwarts again.

"I'm a member of the Order of the Phoenix. And he might be my father, but I'll fight him. I'll fight him until we win or I die. It's that simple."

"Until you _die_?"

She smiled—her usual, charming, disarming smile—and said, "Don't worry about it. I'm not planning on dying any time soon." She looked down at her dress, only just noticing the human mess all over it. "Damn." Getting her wand out, she siphoned off the blood and, well, intestine, then tried to adjust her hair back to being tidy. It didn't really work.

Sirius stepped forward and pulled out the pins holding the remainder of it up. "Leave it down. You look beautiful with it down."

"Come on. We need to get back."

"Helena-"

She kissed him, long and lingeringly. "Thank you, Sirius. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He squeezed her hand. "Never have to find out."

When they landed back in Godric's Hollow, there was no one else out in the graveyard except James and a frantic-looking Lily. When Helena and Sirius arrived, Lily threw her arms around Helena.

"Lily-"

"I don't care who your father is and I don't care how many Death Eaters come to get you the next time and please don't feel guilty that they picked today, because really all that matters is that the people I love are here, and I _do _love you, Helena, you've been my best friend since we left Hogwarts and I realised that I'd never told you-"

"Lily,_ breathe_, for Heaven's sake," Helena interrupted firmly.

The redhead did so, though she didn't stop hugging. Having never ever been hugged by Lily before, Helena was at quite a loss as to what to do. Finally she settled on a pat on the back. "Um, thanks, Lily. All…nice to hear."

"You alright?" James asked her.

She nodded. "I'll be just fine."

"Good. Then can we get married now?" James asked. "Y'know, now that my best man's back?"

Lily took his hand. "Yes. Let's."

Helena took it out again. "Not to be a killjoy, but Lily and I have to come in after the pair of you."

"Right." James leaned forward, kissed his fiancée. "See you in a minute."

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Sirius shoved the groom inside the church. "You're spending the rest of your life together, you idiot! You have plenty of time to look at her later!"

Lily smiled after them, then turned to face her bridesmaid. "Where's Alice?" Helena asked.

"Azkaban. She's an Auror, remember? She and Frank took the remaining Death Eaters to there as soon as you disapparated."

"How many were remaining?"

"Seven or so. We killed four of them and the rest disapparated before we could stop them." Lily pointed to the church wall, where Helena saw ten bodies, their faces covered with cloth, some white and some black.

"So six of us are…"

Lily nodded sadly. "Yeah. I wasn't sure if we should continue, but James insisted."

"Quite right too."

Lily smiled at that, but then paused. "Don't despair, will you? You always have us."

"Yeah, so Padfoot tells me."

"And you _definitely _have him."

"Lily-"

"Let's get me hitched, shall we?"

They did so, somehow managing to salvage a sense of romance from the ashes of the occasion. She suspected it had a lot to do with the amount of love that Lily and James were shedding, like light. It was impossible to ignore, or be oblivious to feeling it. In half an hour, doubt and suspicion had been wiped from the minds of all the congregation. When the ceremony was over, no one had any qualms about joining in with the reception celebrations.

After eating, everyone toasted the bride and groom, and then the new Mr and Mrs Potter took to the floor for their first dance as husband and wife.

"Hellfire?"

Helena looked away from the newlyweds, beaming. "Yes?"

"You know you said earlier that you'd fight Voldemort until we won or you…died—but you get that you can't, don't you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Can't? What do you mean I can't?"

"Well they'll be targeting you every time now, without you exposing yourself with the Order. It's too dangerous."

"And since when has a little danger put me off?" she smirked, reaching for her champagne.

"Helena, I'm serious. You _cannot_ carry on fighting with us."

"Then what am I supposed to do, stay at HQ and knit you socks?"

"Be fair, I'm not suggesting you do _nothing_, just that-"

"Actually that's exactly what you're suggesting," she interrupted, tone cold.

"Helena, I'm trying to protect you here. You were thanking me for it not so long ago."

"When I actually needed it, yes! I don't need you to play the dashing hero here, Sirius! I can take care of myself." With that, she got up, walking toward the exit of the marquee.

Sirius followed her, oblivious to the stares they were now attracting. "I'm not saying you can't, I'm just saying compared to _all _the Death Eaters and Voldemort you don't stand a chance!"

"Yes, because that's not overly dramatic at all!"

"Oh for God's sake, woman, don't be ridiculous—you'll just get yourself killed!"

"I am a far better duellist than you will ever be in your wildest dreams, Black!"

"This has nothing to do with ability!" he snapped back. "This is because you're-"

"Female?" she demanded. "You're confusing chivalry with chauvinism again, Sirius! I don't need your _permission_ to fight for what's right-"

"I know you don't need my permission!" he roared. "I don't want you to go because if you do, you'll die!"

"Then I'll die! It's not up to you to decide-"

"Yes it is!"

"And why the hel-"

"Because I love you, you stupid bloody woman!"

The onlookers took a collective breath. Helena didn't calm down or breathe. "Yeah? Well for some completely unknown fucking reason, I love you too!"

"Brilliant!"

"Great!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They stared at one another for a few seconds, both of them breathing hard. Finally Helena spoke again. "What, so that's it? You just thought you'd yell it at me in front of all our friends? Steal James and Lily's thunder by doing it at their wedding?"

"I didn't _mean_ to—but you're so sodding provocative you'd test the patience of a saint!"

"There's nothing _remotely _saint-like about you!"

"I never said there was!"

"Good!"

"Absolutely!"

More silence.

"So that's that then is it?" James asked finally.

Sirius glared at his best friend; Helena was still looking narrow-eyed at him. "Yeah, I guess that's that."

She started to leave, but the movement woke Sirius up. "It bloody isn't!"

Helena turned around just in time for him to grab her upper arms and kiss her hard. To say she _melted_ wouldn't have really been accurate; she kissed back with just as much fire, raking her fingers through his hair and biting his bottom lip. It felt as though her blood had been set alight; euphoria racing through her, and it _burned_.

With her every cell spinning, her lungs aching through lack of air, Helena pulled away briefly. "I love you."

He didn't smile, but his eyes were dancing. "I love you."

"And it took you this long to tell me," she grinned. "Prat."

"Idiot."

She smiled, knowing she should be horrified at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, but actually not caring at all. "Shut up."

He did—but probably only because she was kissing him.

The next two hours were spent mostly outside the marquee (and at one point in a bush, another against a tree…), simply because they couldn't—as best man and bridesmaid respectively—leave before the bride and groom had. Unfortunately for the wedding guests, it had always been hard for them to keep their hands off each other, but now it was impossible. Helena felt almost as though she hadn't ever been with him before, not in the way she knew him now. She'd known him physically, now she knew him spiritually—it was the next step to know him in both ways, no? But that kind of _lovemaking _required patience, required time and solitude.

Finally though, they were released, by Lily and James, who'd had complaints from the other guests. Their smiles were kind, even if their words weren't so much.

They took the floo home, landing in a dark and silent house that seemed full of light and laughter anyway. She held her arms out for Sirius as he appeared in the fireplace, kissed him softly when he came to her.

He broke away with a wry smile. "This is weird."

She laughed. "God I'm glad you said that."

"It is though, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Letting it out, yeah. Feeling it is perfect. But telling you…"

"Tell me about it. Spent too much time hiding it. Mostly from myself."

She reached out and pushed his jacket from his shoulders, moving onto the buttons of his shirt. "Then don't tell me. Show me."

They took a leisurely route up to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes, divested slowly, in their wake. Helena never had a clear memory of any of that night—just flashes, dreams almost. A press of lips to her neck, her mouth melded to his, their bodies fusing together and the violent storm of pleasure that followed. She didn't remember breathing, didn't remember blinking because it would have been severing her gaze from his, if even for a moment. She wanted no barrier between them, no wall that was yet to be crossed. There were no screams that night, no shouts or cries. His breathing of her name in his climax told her everything she needed to know. And she, in turn, held nothing back.

By the time exhaustion had stilled their limbs—nothing else could—it was past two a.m., and with nothing to worry about for now, they both fell quickly toward sleep. Or at least, Sirius did. Helena was on the edge of slumber when an entirely unwelcome thought entered her head. A thought she had managed to brush aside for the last few hours.

The Death Eaters had attacked Lily and James' wedding. They must have known dozens of members of the Order would be there, even if they didn't know exactly who was in it. If they had done it once, were they not likely to do it again?

And she was more than a member of the Order now. She was Voldemort's daughter. And it wasn't much. But it might be a way in.

She looked at her lover's sleeping face, wondering how in the name of Merlin she could possibly be considering this. Ending her relationship before it had even begun—or if things got really bad, if she had to… _How could he ever forgive me? _she asked herself, feeling her stomach twist at the very idea. It was terrifying, more than she could stand. What if…what if she drove him so far from her, drove herself so far from his light, that she got lost? Lost in the dark, all alone.

Forcing herself to swallow back the fear, she repeated to herself what she had told him earlier. Gryffindors were not cowards. And yes, she could do irreparable damage to herself by doing this. But she could equally do irreparable damage to Voldemort, too.

Suddenly finding her decision made, Helena sighed. Then she snuggled slightly closer to Sirius. "I love you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead and sweeping his hair back gently.

Her stomach twisted when he opened his eyes and smiled at her. Smiled so trustingly, like there was nothing she could do that would destroy his faith in her. She only hoped that might be the case.

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do." He frowned, sitting up. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I… I just needed to hear it."

He smiled. "Then I love you."

"Thank you. And I'm sorry. Please believe me, whatever you might hear, that I have to do it."

"What-?

She got out of bed and pulled on some robes—black ones, with green trim. A gift for her sixteenth birthday she'd not touched since. "I hope I won't be long."

"Where are you going?"

"To- To see Dumbledore," she said hesitantly, though it was true. "Don't wait up."

She couldn't apparate to Headquarters, as it was protected by the same spells as Hogwarts, so she went down to the library to use the fireplace instead. In a whirl of emerald flame, Kensington disappeared to reform as McGonagall's ancestral home took its place. There were two figures in the great hall when she clambered out of the fireplace: Moody, and Dumbledore himself.

The headmaster helped her stand with a kind—if slightly worried—smile. "Helena. Is there something amiss?"

"No. Well, nothing that wasn't wrong a few hours ago anyway. I just had a question."

"Only one?" Moody grunted, raising an eyebrow.

"Only one."

"Which is?"

"Can I help more than I am?"

"With the Order?" Dumbledore asked, frowning.

"Yes."

"I don't believe so. Not without-"

"Spying for us," Moody completely, when it looked as though Dumbledore wasn't going to. "Are you offering?"

"If it'll help."

"Well of course it will! Believe me, girl, we need good, useable intelligence about these bastards! At the moment they're ten steps ahead of us at every turn!"

"Let me go in."

"Absolutely not," Dumbledore said quietly. "It is out of the question."

"Why? Anyone else, he will kill or have killed on sight. There's a chance of that happening to me, yes. But equally there is a chance that my arrival will evoke his curiosity. Long enough to keep me alive, anyway. Moody's right. At the moment we have nothing, not even an idea of what Voldemort is ultimately after. This may be our only opportunity."

Dumbledore sighed, passing a hand over his brow and looking as if his head was crammed with too many thoughts, all conflicting with each other. After a moment when he just sat, eyes closed and frown on his face, he opened his eyes again and fixed her in a light blue gaze. "Why do you want to do this? You have so much to live for, Helena. Why put your life in immediate danger?"

"_Because _I have so much to live for. Lily and James began a life together yesterday. And in a way I did too. What kind of future do they—do I—have like this? Can you imagine them raising children in a world dominated by dark magic? A Hogwarts where the only house is Slytherin? I can't make sure all of those things don't happen, Dumbledore. But I can at least help."

There was a silence, which Moody broke, nodding, "Can't disagree with you, lass."

"Helena: you have no idea what you are volunteering for. You have no idea what will be required of you."

"I'm under no illusions, Headmaster. I'm prepared for the horrors, believe me. But it's the lesser of two evils. I can do this, because I must do this."

Dumbeldore sighed, looking at last defeated. "What do you need?"

"Voldemort's last known location. And the body of the Death Eater I killed yesterday."

"Easily done," Moody nodded.

Ten minutes later, Helena had what she needed. The Death Eaters were in residence at Crabbe Court—a mansion outside Bath that had a selective anti-apparition field. It would only admit those who had set foot inside the grounds before. Thanks to a dreary garden party in 1972, Helena had been there before.

She apparated straight into the dining hall.

It was dimly lit, a few candles every ten feet the only illumination. And every seat was full. There were silver platters of food, silver plates and cutlery in front of the diners—all save one. At Helena's appearance, silence immediately burst forth. She had a fraction of a second, no more, before every curse in the world came hurtling at her.

She used it wisely.

Flicking her wand forward, the body she'd levitated alongside her slammed into the middle of the table and slid all the way along the shining wood. It stopped a few feet from the head of the table.

Helena met the dead, scarlet-slitted eyes that fixed on hers without fear, and smirked. "You didn't think of just sending an owl?"

* * *

**A/N: Please review. I really need cheering up at the moment. **


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**A/N: I'm sooooooooooooo sorry it took me soooooooooooooo long to get this chapter out! We're moving house and no internet yet :( But it'll only be a couple of weeks and then hopefully we can get things moving properly. **

**Right, before anyone says it, I have checked, and JK is mum on when exactly Nagini comes into the picture, so let's assume Voldemort has her already, mmmkay?**

**Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews - enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter Twenty Six**

Helena was being circled. Not by all of them, thankfully. But by the worst one. When she'd deposited the eviscerated carcass she'd brought with her, the dead woman had turned out to be the paramour of a Death Eater—the man had almost immediately tried to fire a Cruciatus Curse at Helena. It had taken one word from Voldemort to stop him before the spell had left his lips.

Now Helena was quite alone with her father. Wand gone and feeling rather…unafraid. Her heart was pounding, yes, but it wasn't from terror.

Finally, after ten minutes during which he did nothing but pace around her—that bloody snake of his following his every move—he lowered himself into a hard-backed wooden chair (Helena couldn't help making ridiculous comparisons with the ones in McGonagall's office) and indicated for her to do the same. She raised an eyebrow at the oddly courteous gesture, but did so. Another moment of silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the snake's soft hissing.

"Who sent you?"

"Dumbledore."

"Why?"

"To spy."

She'd known, somehow, that there would be no point in lying, no point in even attempting to. "And why did you come?"

"Curiosity."

That, too, was true. The situation reminded her of a story Lily had once told her about, called Alice in Wonderland. It had sounded like a muggle girl discovering magic for the first time to her, but the image was apt now. She was looking into the rabbit hole…wanting to know how far down it went.

"About?"

"How much of you is in me. Thankfully there appears to be little physical resemblance."

There was the flick of a brow (or where a brow would have been, anyway) and Helena felt a glimmer of hope. Good. As long as she was different—as long as she didn't worship or fear him—she might gain a foothold.

Red eyes roved over her again. "But you believe there is in other ways."

"Since I left Hogwarts, my skill and power has increased exponentially. Since you started sending Death Eaters after me, in fact."

He steepled his skeletal fingers together and sat back. "It is true I have much to teach. And I suppose you would style yourself my successor."

"A foolish thing to think, much less say."

He tilted his head. "Oh?"

"I used Veritaserum on Lucius. You already regard me as a potential rival. Confirming your suspicions would be signing my own death warrant."

"So you are not a fool, then. Merely a risk-taker."

"Unlike you."

"You think I avoid risk?"

"I think you would never do anything unless you were already assured of success."

"Calling me a coward now?"

"I would call that wisdom."

"Yet you choose not to use it now."

"As I said: I've come to learn."

Another silence, and this time Helena felt a little easier. She had not earned his respect—but then she doubted anyone had—but perhaps she had pulled out some callous amusement. It would be enough to get her summoned back.

"There will be…tests."

"Naturally."

"You are eager."

"Would you not be?"

"No," he said flatly. "I would be formulating a plan to kill me."

"I don't waste my time on impossible schemes."

He smirked. "And yet you claim to be a member of Dumbledore's little club?"

"I was," she nodded. "But that was yesterday."

"Curious indeed."

"So: the first test?"

"Impatient as well. A true Gryffindor," he said, mouth set in a mocking, contemptuous line.

"I am not ashamed of it," she said calmly. "Why should I be?"

Apparently, judging from his expression, there were many reasons why she should be ashamed of it, but when she said nothing, the thoughtful look returned. "Very well then. Steal something."

"What?"

"Veritaserum, from the potioneers at St Mungo's Hospital."

"Why?"

"My orders are not questioned. They are simply obeyed."

She set her jaw. "Why? Because they are all afraid of you?"

"Yes. And with good reason."

She considered that. Questioning further, more insolence, would probably use up whatever patience he might have left for her. And that would get her killed. She eyed the snake. Probably eaten too. Deciding discretion was better part of valour, she nodded. "How do I contact you when I have it?"

"I will know."

* * *

Almost as soon as she was away from that place, Helena shuddered into tears. She arrived home like that, sobbing in the kitchen, quite certain that she was still alone. It took Sirius slamming the door open to make her realised that of _course _she wasn't. He came to her when she reached for him, and didn't say anything for a while. But that was okay, because there was nothing that needed to be said. He misunderstood the reason for her tears, she knew, but he didn't complain about the tears which soaked his shirt, just made gentle shushing noises and smoothed his fingers through her hair.

God, she was so frightened. She hadn't been, not there, not with him—with him she had been perfectly still, completely calm. Ready. In danger she had been undistressed. In safety she was out of her mind with fear. How had she done it? How could she do it again?

"Don't let me go again, Padfoot, please don't let me go again…"

He obviously still had no idea what she was talking about, but he shook his head, held her a little closer and kissed her forehead. "I won't. I won't, Hellfire."

After he had made her a cup of tea, wrapped her again in his arms in the living room and opened the curtains to the dawn outside, she felt a little better. Lying on the sofa still nestled against Sirius chest, she sighed. "I love you."

"I love you," he smiled briefly, before his expression darkened a little. "What did Dumbledore say?"

She could not tell the truth to Voldemort and lie to the man she loved—though she knew that there would come a time when she had no choice—so she said, "There wasn't much he could say. Lucius said everything of significance."

"He didn't ask you to do anything stupid did he?"

She was torn between the urge to chuckle and the urge to cry again. "You mean…does he want me to spy on Voldemort? No, Padfoot. He doesn't want me to."

"Good. Then I don't have to curse him."

She smiled and kissed him. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"To protect you? Of course."

Helena said nothing, her blood chilling suddenly. The days of him lying to her were long gone, she knew that, she had known that from the minute he had yelled that he loved her. He would protect her from whatever and whoever threatened. And he would get himself killed if she let him. Suddenly deception meant much more than it had before. No longer something to be avoided; she had to embrace it and tell him nothing. She had to hide _everything_.

Suddenly going back to Voldemort seemed a pathetically easy task.

* * *

"Helena, would you have me that vial please? Helena, the vial? Helena!"

A hand suddenly appeared in front of her face, waving up and down. It had the desired effect, snapping her out of her reverie and making her focus on Lily once again. "What?"

"Could you hand me the vial?"

"Oh, of course."

She handed the vial to her fellow Healer, then squirted some of the Soothing Solution into her own palm. They were working on identical cases—a couple who had gone into the Brazilian jungle searching for undiscovered magical plants that could hold equally undiscovered healing properties. Unfortunately, while they had discovered a new plant, its only property seemed to be biting when removed from the soil. With venomous fangs. Venom which was acid-based. They had just about managed to apparate as far as St Mungo's before collapsing.

"What were you thinking about anyway?" Lily asked as she applied some of the Solution to the red-raw bite marks on her patient's arms and legs.

Helena thought quickly, feeling heat rise to her face. The truth was her plan past the potioneers. She would ordinarily have to get written authorisation from her supervisor—Octavia Fantaine—in order for a rationed amount of potion to be dispensed. In the case of Veritaserum, it was even trickier; once dispensed, an owl would immediately be sent to the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If the name of the patient did not match up with their records of suspicious persons, then the Healer who had administered the Veritaserum would be questioned and even possibly arrested. Considering the reputation Barty Crouch had, Helena was betting on the latter if she got caught. She couldn't brazen it out—she had to do it by stealth. And she did have a plan. She was just trying to work up the nerve to actually carry it out.

"Sirius," she finally answered, quietly.

She hated using him as an excuse, but it did the trick. The puzzled look on Lily's face disappeared in an instant, to be replaced by an amused grin. "If someone had told me a week ago _you _would be lovesick over Sirius Black, I never would have believed it."

"Yes, well, I'm having trouble believing it myself," Helena said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't worry, you regain the ability to think clearly eventually."

"And then obviously _lose _it once you get married," she replied, nodding at what Lily was doing—namely rubbing Soothing Solution onto her patient's shoe.

"Ooops. Sorry, Mr Sattler."

Helena smirked and straightened. "I'm going for my lunch break. See you in a bit."

She left the ward, patting the small bottle in her pocket. It wasn't much, but it should last just long enough. She had an hour for lunch, and she had to make every second count. She just hoped that she could get the final ingredient. With that in mind, she headed for the staff canteen, trying for casual and being surprised at how easily it came.

Luck was on her side too. Of the two permanent potioneers, one was also on his break, apparently asleep in a corner, a _Daily Prophet _spread open on his lap. He was snoring softly. Helena joined the queue just behind one of the receptionists. As they got to the drinks dispenser, she reached forward quickly—too quickly, accidentally scratching the other witch's hand.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry! Not looking where I'm going."

The receptionist shook her head. "It's no problem."

"Oh but look, you're bleeding…"

"Really, I don't mind, it happens."

"At least let me fix it." She pulled out her wand and tapped the two tiny red lines on the other woman's hand, which instantly disappeared.

"Thanks."

Helena smiled. "No problem."

She paid for her coffee and headed for the doors. At them, she carried out probably the most risky part of the whole thing. Casting a memory charm in broad daylight. Not a powerful one, to be sure. Just enough to make sure the receptionist would be unable to identify her later.

"Obliviate!" she whispered.

The receptionist paused suddenly, looking down at the apple in her hand as though unsure what it was. Then she raised it to her mouth and took a bite, only to be reprimanded by the cashier. "You're supposed to pay for that before you eat it."

"Oh. Haven't I?"

Smiling, Helena left the canteen, and went toward the loos. Once there, she went into a cubicle, locked the door behind her and poured the coffee down the toilet. Then she refilled the cup with the Polyjuice potion she'd brought to work with her. Wincing a little, she dug underneath her fingernails, extracting the skin she'd just collected. In it went. With a hissing fizz, the potion turned a candyfloss pink. With a grimace, she threw it back.

It was an easy job to put a glamour on her robes, disguising their distinctive lime-green colour, and when the cubicle door opened again, a completely alien reflection greeted her.

Five minutes later, the receptionist opened the door to the potioneer's office. It was unusual for someone from the front desk to be up here, so she was greeted with a frown.

"Yes?"

The receptionist blew a bubble of Droople's as big as her fist, and spoke in an east-end accent. "Someone at reception to see you. Lawyer I fink."

The potioneer frowned. "A lawyer? About what?"

She shrugged. "Potions innit? Said somefin' about a client having an allergic reaction, blaming the hospital. Wasn't listenin'," she finished.

"Well, which firm are they from?"

She looked down at the blank bit of parchment she'd brought with her. "Dragonbeard-Griswald & Sons. Whoever they are."

Her words had the desired effect, and panic widened the potioneer's eyes. Dragonbeard only represented the oldest, richest families in Britain. And those old, rich families were the ones who funded St Mungo's. Without a second glance at the receptionist, he rushed out the door.

Helena checked up and down the hallway: empty. She closed the door and rushed through the lab to the stock room beyond. As if it had been done deliberately to aid her, everything was in alphabetical order. It was a simple matter to locate the 'V's'. There were six full bottles of Veritaserum on the shelf; she took the one at the very back. The last one to be noticed.

She had given herself five minutes to complete the task, and now found she'd done it in half that time. Still, she wasn't about to hang around. She ran back to the toilets and locked herself in. She spent the rest of her hour trying not to feel guilty about the woman whose skin she was currently wearing. There was no reason why anything bad should happen to her. She didn't know what had happened, and there was no way for her _to _know either. She might be arrested, but there was no evidence to incriminate her. And if there was something Helena had overlooked…then so be it.

The Polyjuice Potion wore off right when it was supposed to; at the end of her lunch hour, she was herself again, the only glamour now on the bottle of Veritaserum, which she'd disguised as a Calming Draught and pocketed.

When she got back to the ward, there was no sign of any disturbance, no Healers rushing around, and Lily seemed perfectly alright as well. A sense of, if not triumph, then satisfaction filled her. She had done what she'd been ordered to, and while it would not be the last test, it was a start. A foot on the ladder. As long as she didn't think too hard about where that ladder led, it would be fine. She would find out something that would make it all worth while.

Now all she had to do was go home and wait for the summons.

Four hours later, her shift was over and she took the floo home, appearing in the fireplace with her prize still intact. She checked the clock. Four thirty—Sirius would be home any minute; where could she hide it? Pursing her lips, she looked around the kitchen, then inspiration struck. He never went in the food cupboards, as she was still firmly the head chef. If she put it amongst the spice jars, he'd never think to look for it there.

She was just in time stowing it away, and was just boiling the kettle when there was a small _pop_, and Sirius appeared. He kissed her, then flopped down into a chair. She handed him a mug of tea. He took it gratefully, and they say drinking silently for a moment. Her heart was pounding again. He knew. He had to know, surely, because if she was in his position, her guilt would be written all over her face, easy to spot, readable in a second. Yet he said nothing. His eyes were on face, to be sure, but they were happy to see her. When he smiled, she smiled back automatically. Had she told him she loved him today?

"Rough day?"

"You could say that."

She put her tea down and crossed to him, sitting in his lap. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Know what'll make it better?"

He grinned. "I've really no idea."

She pulled off her top. "Still no clue?"

He lowered his head, kissing her neck slowly. "Not one."

She unfastened her bra. "And now?"

"Something's dawning slowly."

Now it was Helena's turn to lose her train of thought as his mouth moved from her neck down her chest. She drew in a sharp gasp as his lips closed around a nipple. "I really think…you being…less clothed would help…"

He only needed to get a little bit less clothed, really, so it was only her who ended up completely naked, though neither of them complained about that. She suddenly found that she needed to be in control of it today. She had done everything the way she wanted to today, and this could be no exception to that rule. She twisted in his lap, straddling him. He went to move his hands to her hips, preparing to lower her onto his cock. Helena took his hands and put them behind his back, then grabbed the nearest thing to hand—a dish cloth in this case—and wrapping it around his wrists.

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. "This is new."

"Are you complaining?" she murmured, unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

She shifted a little closer as she did so, leaning forward to push the material from his shoulders. As she did so, her breasts came into contact with his chest, both of them groaning. Her nipples felt rock hard, grazing rather than stroking his skin. She slipped off his lap after a moment, causing a wave of unsatisfied arousal to shudder through all her muscles. He opened delirious grey eyes, a look of uncertainty in them.

"Hellfire-"

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

Suddenly craving a sense of power over him she dropped to her knees, circling his length with her hand before touching her lips to his cock. She stayed that way, teasing and stroking and kissing, doing anything except the one thing he craved. His entire body was tense now, the muscles in his neck corded, standing out. His head was thrown back, eyes closed again now. It occurred to Helena that she could do anything, anything at all to him at this moment, and he wouldn't care. He was completely at her mercy. With that thought, it became impossible not to have him insideher _right now. _She got to her feet again, then sank down onto him and took his head into her hands. Keeping her hips still, but clenching her inner muscles around him, she bent her head and kissed him savagely, biting his lips until they were swollen and sensitive.

"Helena-"

She rocked her hips once, grinning at the ragged groan which left his throat. "Yes?"

"Please…"

Her turn to moan now. "Please what?"

"_Please_!"

She gave in, began rocking on top of him in earnest, finally letting his thrusts hit home, hard and deep. Within seconds, they were both climaxing loudly, the noise echoing off the kitchen walls. With her orgasm, all the fierce energy that had filled Helena evaporated instantly, and she collapsed against him, exhausted and with tears pricking at her eyes.

Sirius removed his makeshift bindings (truthfully, he'd done it about ten seconds after she put them on, but it was fun to pretend) and gathered her more fully into his arms. He noticed her shaking immediately. "Hey, what's the matter? What's wrong?"

She shook her head but wouldn't look at him until he lifted her face, remaining silent even then. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

"Nothing, but…a lot at the same time, you know?"

"Not really."

"Doesn't matter, Padfoot. I'm just cold."

He wasn't buying it, but nodded anyway. "Alright, then let's move this to the bedroom, shall we?"

Hours later, after they'd had something to eat and made love again, he was asleep, and Helena watched him. It was the first time today she'd been unafraid. Even when full of her own cleverness, her heart pumping with something that seemed thicker than blood, even when riding high on the crest of an orgasm, she had been uneasy. Now peace had been restored. There was nowhere better she could be, nowhere safer. No one and nothing could touch her, reach her here.

Until there was a tap on the window. A barn owl stood outside, impatiently waiting to be let him. Dread filling her bones, Helena left the warm bed and took the roll of parchment the owl offered. There were only two words.

_To me_.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**A/N: I wrote this when I was sleep deprived, so let me know in a review if it doesn't make any sense and I'll take it down and rewrite it! Thank you for the lovely reviews!**

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

Staring at the words, a cold shiver raced over Helena's skin. For a moment she was on the verge of tears. Fear seemed to fill her bones, punching gaping holes in them; she almost expected to see white shards poking up out of her flesh. The snakes were back in her belly again.

She looked at Sirius, still asleep and completely trusting that his girlfriend wasn't about to go haring off in the middle of the night to commit unspeakable acts for her Dark Lord father. 'Innocent' was never an adjective it had occurred to her to describe Sirius with, but it was true now. He'd never do this, and if he was forced to, he'd never find any exhilaration in it. And she had, that afternoon. Her stomach twisted in guilty knots when she thought about the bottle of Veritaserum downstairs—but it twisted in something else, too. She had found excitement in it. Sirius could never find anything like that exciting. He was too...pure for that.

The urge to burn the scroll and return to bed now was strong. It had been one meeting, she hadn't learned anything she didn't already know, there would be no reason for Voldemort to come after her himself. Stopping _now_, forgetting it had ever happened _now_, wouldn't put Sirius, James or Lily in any more danger than they were in already. The argument held no water, though, she pointed out to herself. It was already too late to pull out. She had met Voldemort, she had claimed her—her birthright?—as his daughter. If she did bottle it now, then he would be the one to come to kill her next. And he would, she'd no doubt of that. But in doing, he would also kill everyone she loved. Maybe James and Lily would be smart enough to stay out of it, but Sirius… Sirius was reckless. And in the event of losing the woman he loved, he could not be trusted with his own safety, she knew that much.

So, further down the rabbit hole it was then.

She crossed to the bedside table and picked up her wand, pointing it at her sleeping lover. "_Solemnio_," she whispered.

Nothing happened, but she knew the spell had worked anyway. All it was designed for was sleep; as Sirius was already unconscious it would just keep him that way, until she returned and lifted the spell. That done, she kissed him softly, brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. "Goodnight, sleeping beauty." She kissed him again. "And I'm sorry."

She didn't creep downstairs, since a bomb could explode in the street outside and it wouldn't disturb him. Once dressed, she retrieved the Veritaserum and disapparated. She headed straight for the antechamber she'd last left and found Voldemort there, along with one other Death Eater. Hooded and masked, she had no idea who he was.

She held the Veriteserum out to Voldemort, and he levitated it from her hand and into that of another Death Eater, stood just behind him. There was no word of congratulations. Instead he only spoke over his shoulder. "Well?"

"Yes, my lord. This is from the hospital. And there are rumours that one of the receptionists has a new twin who was in the potioneers' stockroom this afternoon."

Helena started at the familiar voice which sounded from underneath the skull-like mask. "Octavia?"

The woman looked at Voldemort, who nodded imperceptibly. She removed her mask and pulled back her hood, revealing that Helena had been right. She was Octavia Fantaine. She smiled warmly at the young witch, apparently pleased to see her. "You seem surprised, Helena."

"I am. Goes a little against 'harm none' doesn't it?" she asked, referring to the first law of Wicca, the fundament that all magical healing was based on. "And frankly I'm surprised you're needed at all," she added, glancing at her father. "I don't imagine you have many cases of dragon pox to deal with here."

"Do you not heal aurors at St Mungo's? My followers are as frail as any other wizards. Why should they not have healers?"

He gestured for Octavia to leave them, and Helena took the same seat she had the last time they'd been here. "Next?"

He ignored her question. "The woman whose form you imitated—she will be arrested and questioned."

"And be unable to identify me. Memory Charm."

"They can be broken, with adequate…persuasion."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"The Crutiatus Curse. Enough pain wipes the mind blank of anything except the agony of itself. Including enchantments."

Helena suppressed the shiver that threatened to crawl across her skin. She couldn't imagine any information that important that it was worth torturing someone for hours, perhaps days, to obtain it. She couldn't imagine torturing anyone full stop. Was that to be one of the tests, she wondered? Would he demand that she inflict pain on someone for the sheer point of pain? Would she do it? Could she?

"The Ministry would never resort to Unforgivables against non-Death Eaters. Most aurors would be reluctant to use them even against them."

"You underestimate the hatred I inspire."

"The aurors _I _know wouldn't give you the satisfaction," she replied, the words sounding ludicrous even as they left her mouth. Had she really just said that? Had she really just told the _Dark Lord _that?

"The aurors you know would not be given a chance," he said, all mirth suddenly gone from his cold voice.

She acknowledged that with an incline of her head; she had overstepped.

"You may leave," he said abruptly. "I will send instructions by owl."

She stood. "Alright."

"You will bow when you leave my presence."

"Next time."

Before he could say or do anything, she disapparated.

It was still dark when she got home, though even at three in the morning, the streets weren't completely silent. London was active whatever time of day it was. She didn't go to bed straight away though, instead walking around the house and checking all the curtains were closed. Once sure they were, she looked in on Sirius—still fast asleep—and then went down to the library. Coming back here had only been to fool any Death Eaters Voldemort might have sent after her, as had closing the curtains. No one outside would be able to see what was happening inside now.

She grabbed a handful of floopowder and threw it into the grate. Stepping into the green flames, she said, "Westmoreland Castle," clearly, and off she went.

Spinning around at such breakneck speeds, it was hard to contain her nausea. Bile was already rising. When she stumbled out of the fireplace at the other end, it was with a hand pressed to her mouth.

McGonagall was the only person in the hall, though she wasn't doing Dumbledore's trick of pacing up and down. Instead she was asleep, or had been until Helena appeared. She scrambled up as her ex-student emerged.

"Helena. We weren't expecting you tonight—has something happened? Do you have a report to make?"

She nodded. "Just to-"

The vomit wouldn't wait anymore, so she cut off and looked wildly around for something to throw up to throw up in. There appeared to be nothing, so, left without a choice, she turned and threw up in the fireplace. She stayed there for what felt like hours, chucking up everything in her stomach and more besides.

When she'd stopped, a shocked looking McGonagall handed her a glass of water to rinse her mouth out with. "Thank you, Professor."

"It's quite alright, Helena. Are you ill?"

"She shook her head. "No, it's just…it's how I always feel after I leave him."

McGonagall nodded and said, "I take it you've come from there, then?"

"Yes. I passed my first test—I'm sure there will be more, but it's something. A start, at least."

"What did he want you to do?"

"Steal something from St Mungo's. I have a feeling the tests are going to get harder; more dangerous and more illegal—the longer I don't break."

"Have you any intelligence to give us? His overarching plan, or the names of any Death Eaters?"

"One. Octavia Fantaine. She's the Head Healer on the Dai Llewellyn ward at St Mungo's."

McGonagall nodded, pleased. "Thank you, Helena. Was there anything else?"

"I don't think so, Professor, no. At the moment he's contacting me by owl; I'll let you know when the next one arrives."

"Good. Then you should go home and get some rest."

She nodded. "Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight, Helena. Helena?" she added, just as she had one foot in the fireplace. "You need only go as far as you wish to…you do know that?"

"You mean I don't have to get any new tattoos?"

"Precisely."

"I'll bear that in mind. Thank you."

"Goodnight."

It was with a heavy heart and a guilty conscience that Helena finally did fall into bed, five minutes later. Once she was there though, she slept like the dead.

* * *

The nausea had not faded by the following morning, though she managed not to throw up. Too many questions from Sirius. After she'd had a very long, very hot shower, she felt a little better, though not ready for breakfast. Every noise made her jump, and she couldn't take her eyes from the window, convinced that at any moment there was going to be the sound of fluttering wings, an owl with a note in its beak. She looked at Sirius, who was oblivious, head more in his plate of bacon and eggs than anything else. What if an owl came, and he opened it first?

"You got a day off today or something?" he asked through a yawn.

"Hmm? No, why?"

"Because you're not dressed, you're not eating breakfast, you have to be out by eight, and it's now…seven forty five."

"Shit!"

She dashed upstairs and threw her robes on, raking her fingers through her hair—no time for a proper brush—and pulling it up into a ponytail. When she came back down, Sirius was still where she'd left him, plate empty now but with his head propped up on his hand. He was asleep again. Another wave of guilt crashed over Helena. That had to be a side effect of the spell she'd cast on him last night. Merlin's beard, she had no right.

She crossed to him and shook his shoulder. "Padfoot. Padfoot, wake up."

He did, with another jaw-cracking yawn. "Blimey, sorry. Must've been more tired than I thought. Slept like a log though."

She nodded and made a noncommittal noise. "Come on, or we'll both be late."

She wanted to step into the fireplace with him, to be whisked away to some distant place, just the two of them. Run away just like he'd once suggested. But they had to go into two different places. She settled for reaching her arms around his neck and kissing him, long and lingering. She'd never melted into his arms now, and she wasn't doing it now, but she wanted to. God, she wanted to. Instinctively, he gave her what she needed, though he didn't understand why she needed it. His lips were gentle, and his hands tender as they brushed through her hair and over her cheek.

"I love you," she whispered as he let go.

"I love you too."

"H-have a good day," she said hesitantly as he put a foot into the green flames.

Instantly, he was alert. Helena didn't stammer. She didn't hesitate and she didn't stand there looking scared. At least not scared without reason. He came out of the fireplace and took her hands, turning her to the light so he could see her expression. "What's wrong, what's happened?"

She swallowed and shook her head. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't look it. You're pale and there are massive bags under your eyes."

She snorted. "Just what every girl wants to hear, thanks for that, Padfoot. I was going for 'ghost' this morning."

"Helena. Seriously."

"Seriously I'm _fine_," she emphasised. "Now get your perfect arse out of here will you? I don't fancy Mad-Eye coming after me if I'm the reason you're late."

"Okay, but-"

"_Go_."

He gave her one last kiss and then went. Helena took the floo as well, trusting to the flames to dry the tears slowly rolling down her face. They were gone by the time she stepped out into St Mungo's.

It was strange seeing Octavia when she got to the ward, who greeted her in exactly the same manner as he had the day before and all the days before that. She would have to learn that, Helena knew, learn how to mask true thoughts and feelings, and she wouldn't just have to do it part-time. This morning had told her that much. If she let her guard down even a little bit of the time, showed some vulnerability, it would be leapt upon. Leapt upon and dissected until the cause was found. No, if she had been strong before then she must be stronger now. A completely false person.

When Lily arrived, slightly late, twenty minutes later, it appeared to be working. She didn't say a word, and Helena didn't catch her giving her any funny looks. She was sure to keep her attention on her patients today, working diligently for the whole day. She still didn't feel brilliant, but then it seemed neither did Lily. She was as pale as Helena was, and made frequent dashes to the loo.

"Are you sick?" Helena asked, after Lily's sixth visit that morning.

"I think so. James took me down to Brighton yesterday for dinner. Fish restaurant. I think there was a funny oyster."

"Do you need to go home?"

Lily checked her watch. "I might actually. Do you think Ocatavia would mind?"

"I'll ask her for you, if you like."

Lily brightened. "Good plan, she likes you more than she likes me. Thanks, Helena."

Helena smirked at Lily's assumption. It had been hers too, until last night. Now she knew it was because she was under orders to keep an eye on her. Or, a part of her whispered, it was because she knew how advantageous showing favour to her was. She recognised her potential and did not wish to make an enemy of her. Blinking at the dark voice in the back of her mind, Helena shook her head as if to dislodge it, and it didn't come back. Octavia was loyal to Voldemort, no one else.

She went to Octavia's office and knocked on the door. "Come in."

She pushed open the door, and on seeing her, Octavia's eyes sharpened. There was also…a wariness, if Helena wasn't imagining it? She gestured the door to lock behind the Junior Healer, and only then invited her to speak. "What is it?"

"Nothing sinister, Octavia," Helena smirked. "Lily is unwell. She wants to go home early, if you can spare her."

Octavia's lip curled. "I hardly think my ward will suffer from the absence of one mudblood."

Helena couldn't stop it; her mouth fell open. She shouldn't have been surprised, especially after learning of the Head Healer's true identity, but hearing the word was shocking, and hearing it directed at Lily was vile. It immediately roused her temper. "Don't call her that," she spat angrily.

"Why shouldn't I? It's what she is."

"Use it in private and how long can it be before it slips out in public?" Helena demanded. "Don't be a fool."

The wariness was back, along with a gleam of confirmed suspicion. "Very well. Then of course…Mrs Potter may go home and go to bed."

"Thank you."

Without another word, Helena left Octavia's office and went back to Lily, who she found just coming out of the loo. "Thrown up again?"

The redhead nodded. "I feel awful."

"Then go home. Ocatavia said you could. I asked very nicely."

Lily hugged her briefly and disappeared so that Helena could return to her duties. It was a busy day after that, one Healer short, but she found herself grateful for it. If she was rushed off her feet then there was no time to think. She even worked overtime, for as long as she could, anyway. She would have continued till midnight if she could, but Healers were only allowed to work a set number of hours over. Something about sleep deprivation mattering when lives were in one's hands. At eight p.m., Octavia sent her home whether she wanted to go or not.

She arrived to a strong smell of burning, and then, once she'd climbed from the fireplace, thick clouds of black smoke. Choking, she just about made out Sirius' form over by the sink, apparently putting out the fire with water from the tap.

"What hap-" she had to cut off again to cough a little more lung up before continuing, "-h-happened?"

He jumped, and she realised that with the smoke filling the kitchen there was no way he could have seen her come in. "Helena?"

She waved her wand, and the smoke funnelled out of the window. "What did you do?"

"Well, I was…cooking dinner."

She laughed. "You were what?"

"Cooking dinner," he repeated, more sheepishly this time.

"But you can't cook."

"You don't know that," he said defensively.

She gestured to the dark stains on the ceiling. "You set my kitchen on fire, Padfoot."

"Alright, I…mistimed the steak, I'll admit-"

"You were cooking steak and you walked away from it? Sirius…" She sighed. "Come on. We'll go out for dinner."

"Okay. How about Brighton? James recommended a nice little seafood place."

* * *

The owl didn't arrive that night, or the next, but Helena snuck out in the middle of the night anyway. Partly to practice her stealth (she didn't want to cast any more spells on Sirius), and partly to improve her flying. She still had the annoying habit of hitting trees when she was going for a right- or left-hand turn. As a golden eagle, she wasn't exactly built for tight turning circles. Huge drives from astronomical heights, yes. Picking up am entire lamb from a hillside and flying off with it, yes. Delicacy in landing…not so much.

In any event, it didn't work. Unfortunately, her absence was noted by Sirius, who then upbraided her strenuously for a) not telling him where she was going and b) going at all. His points were valid enough, she supposed. As far as he knew the Death Eaters were still after her. A few times she had lied, said she'd gone to Westmoreland Castle to see Dumbledore. She couldn't use Lily and James as an excuse, since they spoke to and saw them so often that it was bound to come up in conversation, and then things would get sticky. But overall she wanted to avoid lying to him. She was so bad at it, after all.

Unfortunately, not lying to him involved him shouting at her. A lot. Mostly that she was needlessly placing herself in danger. The only good thing about it was that fights usually led to really great make-up sex.

Finally the owl did come though, with the name of a different stately home written on it, though not one Helena was familiar with: Coughton Court. Fortunately for her, Sirius was still at the Auror Office, on one of the night training sessions they ran for auror trainees. She didn't have to worry about disturbing him, and as long as she was back by four-ish, it shouldn't be a problem. She hoped.

She took floopowder to get there, and unlike at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, no one offered to help her out of the fireplace.

She didn't bow to Voldemort, who looked unimpressed at the lack of respect but didn't comment on it. With him were four other Death Eaters, all of whom were hooded and masked. As always for these meetings, Helena had worn dark robes and a black cloak. In the warm early autumn, it was stiflingly hot, but no one else seemed to let it bother them, so Helena didn't either. She straightened, and waited.

"You're to go to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. There is a bill which intends to alter the status of house-elves. At the moment, the penalty for an owner killing one—accidentally or otherwise—is a large fine. This would alter their legal status to household property. To be destroyed at the owner's discretion. It has been put forward under my orders, and it will be passed. There is but one member of the department who still stands firm: Prakesh Patil. Crabbe, Goyle, Knott—burn the Department to the ground. McNair, you will go with my daughter to his home."

It was the first time he'd referred to her as such, and the words caused a shiver to run over her skin, a frisson of electricity shooting up her spine.

Voldemort's scarlet eyes were fixed on her now, narrowed. "Do the same to his home. Reduce it to ashes. And take this." From thin air, he conjured a skull-mask and held it out to her. She reached out to take it, but he didn't let go right away. "Do not fail."

"I won't."

McNair's hand closed around her forearm in an iron grip. It lightened significantly when she glared at him. Satisfied that he wasn't going to do it again, she slipped the mask over her features, and they disapparated. Once the feeling of constriction had passed, McNair let go of her.

They were standing in front of a terraced house, in a row of terraced houses. A fire in one could easily spread to the others, and this wasn't a magical area. If the blaze spread it would have to be tackled by the muggle emergency services. She didn't bother looking at McNair; whatever she did or said would be passed onto Voldemort when they got back. She would simply have to trust that it would not spread.

But that didn't mean that she couldn't give the Patils some warning. She shot a blasting spell at the downstairs windows, and luckily, McNair did the same thing. The sound of shattering glass, and then breaking furniture from inside the house, was loud. Helena waited another few seconds, until she saw a light come on in the front bedroom, and then she pointed her wand at the house again. "_Incendio_."

There was an instant roaring noise as a fireball shot from the end of her wand and went straight into the window. There was no delay in the fire taking hold, and within a minute, it was billowing out from the blackened window frame. She turned to McNair. "Let's go."

"We were ordered to raze it to the ground."

"We have," she pointed out. "There's no saving it now. And if we stay any longer we risk exposure."

He looked back at the house in time to see part of the roof caving in, then gave a short nod. "Very well."

When they arrived back, it was to find the others had beaten them there, mainly because their task had necessitated a swift getaway, since they were attacking part of the Ministry of Magic itself. McNair was obviously a man of few words; he only nodded to Voldemort, bowed, and then filed out with the others.

"Well? Did I pass?" she asked.

"What makes you think it was a test?"

"As long as my arm is bare, I'll assume everything you order me to do is a test. So: did I pass?"

He nodded. "Now tell me the purpose of such a test."

Helena had already considered this. "It wasn't to see if I would willingly endanger life," she declared, sure of herself. "It was because you know I defended Dobby. That I cursed Bellatrix to protect him."

"Go on."

"And while I weakness for one piece of vermin may be…gotten around, weakness for the species cannot be tolerated. It was to see if I rank household servants at the same level as my peers. Now you've no reason to suspect that is the case."

"Good."

"In addition, you've learned that I will do as I am ordered to do, even to the point of endangering innocent people whom I've never met, much less who have offended me. Was there another purpose I've failed to divine?"

"There would have been. You've learned caution; you reveal as little of yourself as possible."

"Why did you spare me?" she asked suddenly. "Dumbledore told me." Indeed he had, in an owl he'd delivered the day before. She had requested the information, preferring to get it from him than from Voldemort.

"When you were a child?"

"Yes. When I was three minutes old and you could have killed me, why didn't you?"

"I was curious how you would turn out."

"And am I behaving as expected?"

No answer to that, save a smirk.

"Why not him?" she persisted. "Why not your son? Or are you anti-feminist as well as anti-muggle? Was I supposed to be less of a threat?"

The smirk disappeared. "Careful. I expect my followers to speak to me with a degree of formality."

Helena leaned forward. She spoke carefully, but clearly. "I'm not one of your followers. I'll do what you order for as long as I feel like it. And then I'll leave, or you'll kill me."

He took that quietly, then said simply, "Then I will kill you."

She nodded, recognising the truth in that statement. If she was to die, there would be no one else who could do the deed. Voldemort, though, seemed completely unsatisfied with that conclusion. In fact he looked perplexed, an expression which did not at all look like it belonged on his skeletal face. "Why are you _here_?"

"I've told you that."

"More than that," he demanded, sounding angrily exasperated. "What do you want? If you don't want to be one of my followers and intend to flee eventually-"

"I want to kill Lucius."

Any confusion disappeared from his expression immediately. A cold, cruel smile descended instead, and his eyes gleamed. She could almost see him thinking: _Better. This I understand_. "Why do you wish to kill him?"

"He killed my mother."

"_I _killed your mother," Voldemort corrected.

"He killed the only mother I have ever known. Father—Malfoy—deserved to die; I would have killed him just as she did. Lucius murdered her, and I will avenge her."

"You wish me to gift him to you? It is not in my power…at the moment."

"Because he is in Azkaban, I know. But when he is not, yes. I wish you to give me his life. If I have to earn that reward-"

"You will."

"-then so be it. But I want to kill him. If you want my loyalty—my eternal loyalty—then let me. That is my price."

"The loss of one Death Eater for the fealty of another," he mused. "Is it a price worth paying?"

"You decide."

It started raining on the way home, and when she arrived, swooping in through the open bedroom window, her hair was wet, hanging down her back in twisting strands. She was still naked—Sirius still hadn't taught her how to do clothes—so she grabbed a towel hanging off the wardrobe door and started drying herself off with it.

"Hellfire? That you?"

"Who else would it be?" she called back, cursing how shaky her voice sounded. As always, once she was away from Voldemort, she felt weak, scared, needing Sirius more than ever.

She met him halfway up the stairs, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She buried her head between his neck and shoulder, breathing in that scent which meant protection and comfort, safety and love. He sighed shortly and pulled her closer. "Where've you been, woman? And why are you wet and _why _are you naked?"

"I went for a fly," she said, answering all his questions at once.

"You shouldn't go by yourself. What if you're attacked?"

"I think he's given up on attacking me, Padfoot," she said.

"Even so, it's dangerous. You should let him go with you if you just fancy a bloody jolly."

She snorted. "Really. Don't see many winged dogs, but if the breed you turn into has the power of flight then I would love you to join me."

"Then stop going!"

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"Why does it bother me that my girlfriend is going off for hours at a time by herself in the middle of a bloody and violent war which we're _losing_?" he asked. "Can't think."

"But I'm _fine_," she protested, heading back up to the bedroom and pulling out some clothes. "I can fight off anyone, you know that!"

"No, I don't! We've had this discussion, Hellfire, and I'm getting fucking tired of continually having it! It is too dangerous!" he said, emphasising each word with a stab of his index finger.

"Fine, then stop having it!"

"I would if you'd start listening!"

She'd had enough now, she suddenly realised, in the act of pulling on her jeans. She didn't want to hear any more about the danger; she knew of only two wizards in the whole country who would be able to take her down. Of course, she could not tell Sirius where this conviction came from, but why wasn't her assurance enough for him?

She turned to face him so quickly that he blinked. His gaze moved briefly down to her bare breasts (he was a man, after all), which ordinarily would not have bothered her, except she needed him to be looking into her eyes. She reached out and lifted his face to hers. "Sirius. I am in no danger," she told him, locking their gazes and not blinking. "While I fly, no one knows who I am-"

He frowned. "But-"

She pressed her point harder, willing him to grasp it. "No one knows who I am. If a muggle sees me, they thank their stars for a mere glimpse. With a wand in my hand, I can both heal myself and kill others if they threaten me. I have done so in the past. I will do so again. Please understand and accept this."

For a second, he seemed frozen on spot, paralysed somehow. Then he blinked, sighed, an shook his head. "WIll you at least tell me when you're going then?"

She nodded. "I promise."

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "I just worry about you. I know there's no need, but…"

She kissed him. "I know. I worry for you, too."

"Then don't put such a strain on my blood pressure," he muttered with a smile.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I'll make it up to you."

He grinned. "Will you now?"

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Review please!**


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**A/N: Well, the prophesised internet has let me down. BT man can, BT man fitted BT line, but did not connect it to BT network. Which other BT men will come and do tomorrow. Sad face me :( Anyhoo, I'm jacking someone else's network (sssssshh!) to get this to you. So enjoy! **

**Chapter Twenty Eight**

Not for the first time, Sirius was extremely glad that he could apparate. Travelling by floo all the time would have made getting to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix difficult because of the way it could be tracked. Especially since he didn't fancy flying to Scotland every night. Apparition, though, took very skillful magic to follow. And as far as he knew, none of the aurors who were not already members of the Order possessed such magical knowledge.

Every member was meant to check in every twenty four hours, both to have their true identity assessed and to give any updates they might have. It was a rule—like every other rule he'd ever encountered—that Sirius had trouble adhering to. Normally there was nothing whatsoever to tell Dumbledore or Moody, and his identity could be verified in a matter of a few seconds, a personal question here and there. Plus the fact, if anyone else were to take his place, Helena would know within ten seconds of the impostor walking through the front door, just as he would her. And if Helena didn't spot it, then James would. This was a waste of time. Time that could be much better spent elsewhere.

Because of this, he was already in half a bad mood when he arrived at Westmoreland Castle. It was not helped by the sight that he was greeted with. He'd apparated at the other end of the great hall from the fireplace, with only a small noise, so his presence went unnoticed at first by the four people stood by the great stained-glass window. Dumbledore, Moody, Moony and Helena.

They were all sat closely, heads together and speaking in hushed tones. They looked like they were conspiring something. Auror instincts on the alert instantly, Sirius kept to the shadows, not wanting to move for a moment. He couldn't hear what was being said, but the tone was furtive, and he'd been trained too well to ignore that. Could he get closer? Cast an Extrasensory Perception Charm on himself? Probably not; Dumbledore would pick up any on such magic, and then how would that look, if he was caught spying on the very head of the Order? It would turn dangerous into stupid. Or stupid into dangerous, one of the two.

In any case it seemed not to matter now, since the group was breaking up and heading this way. At least, Helena and Remus were standing and bidding farewell to Moody and Dumbledore. The two of them got into the large fireplace and disappeared, leaving his friend and girlfriend alone. Helena slowly put a hand to her head, looking immensely weary.

Remus put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"No," she said. "There seem to be so many…too many…secrets we're keeping. I keep waiting for the day they all come out."

"They'll forgive us, when they do."

Then suddenly her face crumpled as if she was going to cry, and then his arms were around her. The anger and, well, hatred that suddenly bubbled up in Sirius was unexpected. It was nothing, just one friend comforting another. But no one else was supposed to comfort her. She wasn't supposed to go to anyone else for comfort. She wasn't supposed to _need _to. Why was she?

She certainly hadn't needed to last night, when she'd woken from a nightmare. That had been half the reason for his not wanting to come to Westmoreland in the first place tonight; he wanted to go home and check if she was okay. She hadn't been this morning, even if she was trying to convince both of them that she was fine. Not after she'd woken up crying. And continued crying for some time afterwards, so hard that she couldn't breathe properly and had no idea what was happening or even where she was. She'd held onto him as if he were a life raft, the only thing keeping her afloat in a sea of horror. He hadn't managed to hear everything of what she was saying, and what he did didn't make sense. Eyes which watched her, voices which spoke to her, curses upon her. And then, when some measure of sanity had returned to her gaze, she had gone to sleep apologising to him.

And now she was going somewhere else, telling truths to someone else? Revealing secrets she couldn't tell him? Couldn't, he wondered now, or wouldn't?

Over Helena's shoulder, Moony's surprisingly sharp eyes spotted him in the gloom, and he beckoned Sirius over. He and Helena let go of one another without haste, which oddly helped soothe whatever paranoia had been in Sirius' head. There was no guilt in either of their faces, and the spasm of pain which crossed Helena's face when she saw him was the same one which had crossed it every time she looked at him over the last few weeks. She even kissed him, taking his hand.

He kept tight hold of it, looking at Moony. "So what's going on this month for the full moon? Neither me nor Prongs have heard anything from you about it."

He wasn't sure what he expected, but the lack of surprise that Remus displayed at Helena's knowledge of his condition somehow just pissed him off even more. Nor did he look abashed at the lack of contact kept with his friends. "No, I've…I've got other plans this month."

"Other plans?"

"Yeah. Oh, and would you do me a favour and tell James? I'm really busy at the moment."

"Busy doing-"

"I'll see you soon though. How about a drink, Friday at the Cauldron?"

Before Sirius could say anything, he'd thrown a handful of floopowder into the fire and left in a haze of emerald flame. Sirius dropped Helena's hand as soon as he'd gone. "What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?"

"With Remus and Dumbledore, Moody? I've been involved in enough clandestine conversations to know one when I see one, Hellfire."

She shrugged. "They just wanted to speak to us both."

"Why both of them?"

"Something to do with what we're doing for the Order."

"And what _is _that?"

"Same thing you're doing!" she replied, looking confused as to why he was so angry. It made him angrier. She didn't have the right to look confused. She should just know why, even if he didn't. "I'm keeping a look-out for potential Death Eaters as well as potential members of the Order! Like the Weasleys, remember?"

Molly and Arthur Weasley had joined the Order not three days ago, with Helena recommending Dumbledore contact them. She'd delivered—or helped deliver—their twin boys a few weeks' previous. Apparently during the birth, Molly Weasley had screamed a lot of things at a lot of people. Including threats against any and all Death Eaters who tried to attack her or her family.

Sirius, however, wasn't happy with that. "No, when James and Lily and myself and everyone else gives evidence and other stuff to Dumbledore, we do it with everyone else, in a group, we share information. What is that _you're _doing that the rest of us aren't?"

"What are you accusing me of?"

"Nothing, there just has to be _something_-"

"Why?" she snapped.

"Because I know there's something you're not telling me. But apparently you can tell Remus, whatever it is!"

She suddenly went quiet. "What do you mean?"

"Well you seemed to be pretty cosy earlier," he sneered, almost immediately regretting it.

An expression of intense pain now took up residence on her features, and her hands were suddenly shaking. "Believe me capable of anything, Sirius, anything at all. But never believe I would betray you like that. Never."

He sighed. "I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Good. Because if you did then you clearly don't know me at all."

"I'm _sorry_."

She nodded and came to him. He buried his face in her hair and held her tightly. "I love you, Padfoot. And I always will. No matter what happens." When he went to say the same, she cut him off with a deep kiss, wrapping her arms around him. "Let's go home."

When they did, she didn't cease in her urgency, tugging at his clothes with so much haste that it actually took longer for them both to get undressed than it would have done had they taken their time. When she pushed him back onto the bed, straddling him and ripping open his shirt, he took her hands. "Stop."

She blinked. "What? Why? I thought you'd want to-"

"I do, but lately it feels like we've just been about fucking."

"And you don't _like _fucking me anymore?" she asked with a frown. "It isn't fun anymore?" She poked her skin. "I don't attract you anymore?"

"It's still fun," he said quietly. "And believe me, I'm more attracted to you now than ever."

"But?"

"But we're more, aren't we?" he asked gently, pulling down the pins that held her hair up, and smoothing his fingers through it, lightly massaging her scalp. "Than we used to be?" he kissed her neck slowly, "It's not something apart from our lives anymore, is it?" then her mouth, lingeringly, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth briefly, "You and me." He pulled down the zip at the back of her dress, trailing his fingers down her spine. "This is it, right?" She moaned and tilted her head back. "Right?" he asked again as he lifted the dress off.

Helena looked at him, liquid softness in her eyes. She nodded slowly. "Right."

She pushed him back onto the bed again, this time coming with him. He unhooked her bra and pulled the straps slowly down her arms, then off completely. She arched her back into his hands as his thumbs skimmed her nipples, to be replaced by his mouth and tongue. He slid her underwear down as she pulled his jeans off. She glanced up at him, as if to reaffirm how slowly he wanted things. His reassurance came in the form of a deep, languid kiss. She did not break it as she lifted herself up slightly, then pushed down. Her breath escaped in a long hiss as they joined.

"Sirius…"

The began to move, in tandem; rise, fall, rise, fall. There was still a desperation in her movements, in her muscles, but it eased slowly. Pleasure made her soft, pliable, replaced troubled frowns with happy sighs. Angles became curves as they continued, for hours, days it seemed, discovering forgotten corners of each other. His final crest of pleasure did not come until well into the dawn.

Afterwards, Helena lay in her arms like she'd been born to be there. She'd fallen asleep as soon as she'd fallen still. For once, her face in slumber was smooth, untroubled. He just hoped it would stay that way. A nightmare-free night was rare now. And he still didn't know why.

* * *

Voldemort had decided it was time to introduce Helena to the rest of his gang; he did not give her name, since most of them had already been dispatched at one point or another to kidnap and/or kill her. Nor did he give any explanation as to why she was there. Helena didn't make an attempt to stare them all down, and only sat indolently, lazily, as if her seat were the most comfortable in the room. No one's attention was on her for very long anyway—as soon as Voldemort spoke, he had everyone rapt.

"Avery, Oakenshaw, what have you discovered?"

"She has very little protection, master. No auror and only a few spells; anti-apparition and the like."

"There is, however, a way to alert the ministry in the event of an attack, my lord."

"What?"

"A portrait, in her office."

"Of?"

"We've not been able to determine that, my lord," Avery said hesitantly.

"But it is the only one?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And her home?"

"Her- Her office is _in _her home, master."

"But it is the only way for the ministry to know what goes on there!" gabbed Oakenshaw quickly. "Anywhere else in the house we will have free rein! We could do anything-"

Voldemort held up a white hand. "Enough. Find more information about the spells protecting the house; their names and functions. You have three days to report back. Go now."

"My lord."

"Master."

The both stood, bowed, then disapparated. Helena wondered what house they were talking about, who 'she' might be. Why was there only one way of contacting the ministry? Any magical household in Britain would have at least three…

"Leave us."

She looked up; Voldemort's eyes were on her. The rest of them disapparated, Bellatrix the last to go. She looked more than disappointed at being supplanted as the Dark Lord's favourite. Helena managed a small smirk in her direction. Bellatrix's eyes widened in rage for a moment, then she, too, disapparated.

"Who were you talking about?"

"Someone I intend to suppress and bring under my control," he answered. "A muggle."

"A _muggle_?" she repeated, shocked. "What _muggle _could be so important to be worthy of any of our notice? Is she the Queen?"

He smirked. "Not quite."

"Then who?"

"When the time is right, you will accompany me to her house. See for yourself then."

She blinked. "That's it? No other tests? Or is this simply another one?"

"The last," he said softly. "You may go."

She remembered to bow this time, and the word slipped from her mouth. "Father."

With it, nausea so violently strong that it nearly blinded her shoved its way up her throat from her now roiling-stomach. She managed to get far to Westmoreland Castle—or the grounds, at any rate—before vomiting so forcefully that she had to drop to her knees. When she eventually managed to stagger to her feet, she almost immediately fell again. Dizziness came at her in waves; all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and wait for it to pass. Thankfully, after a while, it did. When it had, she got to her feet again and took a shuddering breath. Perhaps this was more than just the reaction to Voldemort.

Slowly, she forced herself to list her symptoms, going through them as a Healer. Nausea. Dizziness. Strange mood swings. There were several things which could cause that; dragon pox for instance, though she'd never met a dragon in her life. A Cold Curse, which few wizards bothered with and which was usually used by students experimenting on class rivals, but it fit. Except she had no runny nose, no sore throat. She had not ingested any strange liquids, and no potions. So, none-magical causes then. There was the _obvious…_

Helena stood straight. "Shit."

Well, before she went to that conclusion, she had to report to Dumbledore. Pushing aside her suspicion, she went inside the castle. The headmaster himself probably would not be there, but possibly McGonagall might be.

However, she found both Moody and Dumbledore in there. They looked up when she came in, and she smiled despite herself. "Don't you two _ever _sleep?"

"Rarely. What do you have, Helena?"

"He—I suppose I mean _we_, since he's said he'll take me with him—is planning to 'suppress' someone, a muggle. Wouldn't tell me who, when I asked, though when I jokingly asked if it was the Queen, he said that it was someone like her."

"The muggle Prime Minister is a woman," Dumbledore said. "Margaret Thatcher."

"Anything else?" Moody asked.

"He sent Avery and Oakenshaw to gather more intelligence about what protections she had. Apparently there's only one way to contact the Ministry from her office."

"It is the Prime Minister then."

"When is he planning to attack? What did he mean by suppression?"

"I've no idea. And I don't know why he's targeting her. Of course I'll tell you more as I know it."

They both nodded. "But that's it for now?" Moody demanded.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Helena. You should go home and get some rest."

She looked out of the window, at the grey tinge of dawn hanging on the eastern sky. "Too late for that, Dumbledore. I've got work in an hour. Who needs sleep anyway, right?"

Helena left soon after that, heading for home for a large dose of caffeine and then to work. She did not hear Moody and Dumbledore continue discussing her after she'd left.

"She should not be doing this. We should not be _letting _her do this."

"You know as well I as do we don't have a bloody choice," Moody growled. "She's fine. Information she gets is valuable and has been proven reliable. You want to take her out now, leave us blind?"

"No," admitted the older man, "but I worry for her."

"She's not a student anymore, Dumbledore."

"You don't think she is my responsibility?" he frowned.

"By law she isn't. And if memory serves, she volunteered to protect the people she cares about. Not going to argue that's poor motivation are you?"

"Of course not. But I don't think she realises that doing this may cost her those people even if it keeps them safe."

There was a silence. It was true, but the wizards were on opposing sides of that fact. Dumbledore would far rather Helena simply be happy, even if it made her a less effective weapon. To Moody, it was simply a price to be paid. Being alone was the only way to ensure complete safety. The greater good always trumped personal pleasure. As the quiet stretched on, it became obvious that some—any—small comfort was being sought. All Moody had to offer was, "She won't always be a spy."

Helena heard nothing of this, and she made her way through the working day in a haze of fatigue. She made a few mistakes, and the ones that she did make, Lily was always there to correct them for her. It was a system they had had since starting as Junior Healers together, and it worked well even now.

But by the time their shift ended, Lily asked her, point-blank, what the matter was. She didn't tell her all of it. But she told her the most pressing bit. "I think I may be pregnant."

"Oh bollocks."

"Yeah. No. I don't know. Maybe bollocks. Maybe not. And I don't even know if I am-"

"Well…do you want to be?"

"No," Helena said immediately. "One day, maybe, but… This whole relationship is too new. We only just sad 'I love you' to each other a few weeks ago, and as far as I know I'm basically the only girlfriend Sirius has ever had. I can't drop a bombshell like this on him."

Lily nodded. "Okay…but what if you are?"

Helena paused. "I just have to hope I'm not." She cleared her throat. "So what about you and James? Any patter of tiny feet going on?"

Lily shook her head. "Not yet. We've talked about it, of course, but raising a family in this climate of fear—raising a family when Death Eaters could come down on us at any time—just wouldn't be fair. The Order needs us, and a baby would too. It would be selfish of us to start a family until this war is over."

"Maybe."

Lily shut her locker and turned around, pulling her wand out. "So shall we get to it then?"

"What? No!"

"I thought you wanted to know-"

"I do, but not here! Merlin's beard, Lily, anyone could see!"

"Okay…shall we go back to yours then?"

Helena shook her head. "Sirius could be there."

Lily checked her watch. "He should be at work."

"Yeah, but there've been a lot of times he _should be_ somewhere and isn't, hasn't there, Lily? I don't want to risk it."

"Alright, then what do you suggest?" the redhead asked, dropping her arms.

"I don't know…isn't there some muggle way of telling if you're pregnant?"

"Yes, actually. It's a bit messy, but it works."

"Great—can we do that then? Can we go out into London and buy a couple?"

"A couple?"

"Well yeah, I've never done it before, you're going to have to demonstrate."

"I really don't think you want me to, Helena."

"Why not?"

Lily explained how muggle home pregnancy tests worked, after which Helena changed her mind and decided that she in fact didn't need a demonstration. But that didn't mean that she trusted muggle science either. She was pretty sure that a urine-soaked stick wasn't going to be able to see into her womb the same way magic would be able to. Still, she was willing to give it a go—as long as Lily did one too, as a test. Lily's would come back negative, so she could be sure of her own result when it came. They left through the muggle entrance of the hospital and headed to the nearest muggle pharmacy. Lily bought the tests, since Helena didn't think they'd take galleons, and they then found a public toilet to do the test. Helena made sure it was empty before she brought her wand out and swept the place clean. It was a little less than hygienic before she did, but sparkled once she'd finished.

She took a test dubiously from Lily. "So I just…pee on it?"

"Pretty much. And then we have to wait two minutes and it'll tell you."

Helena's eyes widened, looking more closely at the test. "It talks?"

"No—it'll just come up with one pink cross if you're not pregnant, and two if you are."

"Okay. Wish me luck."

Still feeling incredibly doubtful, Helena took the adjoining cubicle from Lily's and took the test as quickly as possible. She stayed in the cubicle once she'd finished, tapping her fingers and biting her lip anxiously. What if she was? Could she have a termination? She could…but not without talking to Sirius about it. Not a decision she had the right to make alone, after all. She swallowed as a thought struck her—what if he wanted to keep the baby? All the reasons Lily had listed as to why she and James weren't going to have a family right now swirled through her head. They were all valid and applicable to she and Sirius. If a couple whose relationship was so much more advanced than theirs could not want to have children, then surely they couldn't decide to? Of course, the decision could very well have been taken-

A pink cross had appeared. Helena stared at it, willing another one not to. After another thirty seconds had passed, none had. Her breath left her in one long whoosh, relief coming in waves.

"Well," she called cheerfully, "I'm not pregnant!"

There was a pause, then a small, shocked, reply. "I am."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! This is kinda filler, but there are some nuggets hidden amongst the crap! Enjoy the chapter.  
**

**Chapter Twenty Nine**

Helena couldn't unlock the door fast enough. Lily stood there, stick in hand and mouth wide open. "Merlin's beard. Lily, are you- are you sure?"

She held up the test. "Two pluses, Helena. That's _two_ pluses."

Sure enough, there they were—clear and pink. "Fuck."

"Oh my God. What is James going to say?"

"Do you want me to do another one? Check properly this time?"

"Please. Not here, though, we should go home first."

"Agreed."

Twenty minutes later, they were standing in Lily's poky kitchen, Helena with her wand out and pointing at the redhead's stomach. "_Verficia gestatio_."

Instantly, an aura of soft golden light surrounded Lily, bathing her in an ethereal glow. "That proves it. You're going to be a mother."

Lily went even paler, clutching at the table edge. Helena pushed her into a chair and made some tea, pouring them a cup each.

"So when are you going to tell him?"

"Are you _mad_?" Lily gasped. "I'm not going to tell him!"

Helena raised an eyebrow. "I think he's probably going to notice eventually, don't you?"

"Maybe if I just wear really baggy clothes-" Lily said, desperately.

"For nine months?"

"If I have to."

"Ok, if on the very, very off-chance that _did _work," Helena countered, "how exactly are you planning on hiding the _baby _when it comes?"

"Well…I…I'm sure I could come up with something. Maybe you could look after the baby."

"Which leads back to me not _wanting _a baby and panicking over it not half an hour ago," Helena pointed out.

"What if he or she's a really cute baby? You'd look after him or her then, wouldn't you?"

Helena decided it was better to say nothing, and just wait until Lily had finished her tea before anything more was said. Tea would make it better. Surely. Tea made everything better. Even if she was, bizarrely, craving a cigarette. Possibly not with a pregnant lady in the room though.

Thankfully, tea did make things better. After Lily had emptied her cup, she sighed deeply and sat back in her chair. "Okay. So I'm pregnant."

"Yes."

"Not the idea situation…"

"Not really, no. But not terrible, either. I can't think of anyone better suited to being parents than you and James." _Neither of you are half-enjoying being a Death Eater, for a start…_

Lily swallowed. "I'm grateful for the effort, Helena, but you don't know that. Look how bad I am with the kids who come into St Mungo's!"

"Only because you don't tell them when something's about to hurt."

"I don't want to scare them."

"Proof positive you'll be fine with this," she said. "You're going to give this baby a home crafted entirely from love. What could be better? What could go wrong?"

"James could be less than overjoyed," Lily said, now looking miserable again.

"Oh yeah, I can see how the idea of having a baby with the wife he's devoted to would be utterly horrifying to him."

"What if he feels the timing is just wrong?"

"And the _right _time to have a baby would be…? It's always going to be completely hectic, no matter when you do it."

"I suppose…"

"So you're going to tell him, yes?"

"Yes," Lily nodded, swinging back to determination.

"When he gets home tonight?"

"Yes."

"And then you're going to be happy, alright?"

"Yes."

Chuckling, Helena gave her a hug and went home herself, collapsing into a chair once she entered the kitchen. "Shit…"

Well, at least _she _wasn't pregnant. She was thankful to discover that Lily's news hadn't made her feel at all broody. Lily couldn't be very far along at all—that spell, if the pregnancy was advance enough, would reveal whether it was a boy or a girl. It hadn't, so presumably the baby wasn't that developed yet. Or maybe she'd done it wrong. Either way, Lily and James were having a baby. They were having a baby before she was ready for them to.

Her hands, she suddenly noticed, were shaking. How could they? Didn't they know that what she was doing, she was doing for them? She hadn't taken Voldemort down yet, she hadn't made the world a safe place yet. Why hadn't they _waited_? Taking a deep breath, she tried to force her irrational anger away. It didn't work. What was the point in her risking herself if no one was going to appreciate the effort she was going to?

Looking around the kitchen, her gaze fell of the packet of cigarettes and the lighter Sirius kept by the back door. He didn't smoke in the house because he knew she disliked it. Or at least, she normally did. Right now… She got up and went into the garden, taking the cigarettes with her. She lit one and only hesitated a second before inhaling for a long breath. The first time she'd tried this, she'd hated it. With this one, she didn't cough at all. For once she understood why Sirius did this. Her hands were stopping their shaking, and she felt almost instantly calmer. She looked at the cigarette with a rueful smile. Perhaps there was something to be said for toxic chemicals.

From inside the kitchen, she heard a popping noise, then Sirius' voice. "Home."

"I'm in the garden," she called.

"I know I'm late, but we raided Oakenshaw's house today and he'd set up about a hundred booby traps for us to get through. James almost lost his head. Literally."

"Is he alright?"

"He's fine. Oakenshaw isn't. He didn't come quietly, so we had to-" he cut off as he came outside, jaw dropping at the sight of her with the cigarette in her hand. "Are you _smoking_?"

"Yes."

"_Why_ are you smoking?"

"I wanted to. I got home and my hands were trembling and I felt really shaky…"

"Yeah…"

"Well, they're not now. See?" She held her hands up, and they were indeed steady. But that didn't mean he liked to see them that way. At all. "Plus," she said, "it's part of my new image."

"Your new image," he repeated.

"Yep. I'm going for bad girl. I've got the bike, I've got the leathers, I've got the really hot boyfriend…the cigarette seemed to complete it."

"Well, yeah, I'm not denying that, Hellfire. But to put poison into your body just for the sake of image is really, _really _stupid." He leaned forward and snatched the fag from her hand, throwing it to the ground and stamping it out.

"Maybe I feel like being really, _really_ stupid, did you think of that?"

"No. Because you hate stupid people, and there's no way possible that you'd do something deliberately idiotic."

"No?" She giggled, a horribly sharp, broken noise that put him in mind of frayed wires. "Then I guess I'm lowering my standards."

She didn't comment when he did to the second cigarette what he'd done to the first. Then, when he opened his mouth to angrily demand what the hell she thought she was doing, she said, "Lily's pregnant."

"What?"

"Pregnant. With child. Up the duff, bun in the oven, on stork watch, eating for two now-"

"Yeah, I know what it means, Helena—how do you know?"

"We did tests. Muggle ones first and then a proper one. She's going to have a baby."

"Wait, 'we'?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm _not _pregnant."

"Did you think you were?"

She nodded. "I thought it might be why I've been so off lately. Hormone imbalance, you know. But it wasn't me after all."

Sirius sat down on the door step. "Bloody hell." He took her hand and pulled her down next to him. "So how did you find out about Lily, if you were taking the test?"

"We were doing muggle ones and I didn't trust it, so I asked her to do one with me. Hers came out positive."

"She told Prongs yet?"

"She promised she'd tell him when he got home. I've never seen her so panicked," Helena laughed.

Her laughter soon ran dry though, when he asked, "Did you want to be?"

"No. I mean there's no one else I'd… But we're not ready. Are we?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "Pair of irresponsible idiots like us? No way in hell are we mature enough to have a kid. If we did we'd just end up passing on bad habits."

She picked up the half-empty packet of cigarettes. "Like this one?"

He nodded and took them off her. "Like this one."

"You know, you're really not in a position to tell me I shouldn't smoke."

"You may have a point."

"I'll quit if you do."

He snorted. "'You'll quit'! You've only had two fags in your entire life!"

"Alright, fine; you quit or I'll start a habit."

"That's blackmail."

"So? You didn't think it was beneath me did you?"

"Funnily enough, not for one second did I think it was beneath you. I'm still disappointed you've stooped to it though."

"Well, I thought you might be getting lonely down there," she said loftily.

He kissed her. "We could get even lower, if you like."

"Really?"

"Positively _common_."

She grinned. "To seal the deal on us both quitting?"

"Exactly."

He took her hand and led her inside, up to the bedroom. Cigarettes were the last thing on her mind once she'd been taken to Heaven and back three times. The fourth time, Helena took Sirius there with her as well, straddling him while his hands were tied to the bedposts. With no way for him to move or do anything except have the breath screwed out of him. Once she had milked everything he had—quite literally—Helena collapsed onto his chest, her own heaving and her breath short, but beaming.

"Down and dirty enough for you?" she asked, panting.

He lifted his head up to kiss her. "Oh God yes." A pause. "Hellfire?"

"Mmm?"

"Untie me now?"

She laughed, but did grab her wand from the bedside table. She waved it toward the material, and it dissolved instantly. That done, she moved back into his arms with a happy sigh.

"You know what we were saying about quitting?"

Without opening her eyes, she opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a cigarette, with a lighter. "Last one?"

"I love you."

She smiled smugly. "I know."

They lay quietly for a while, Helena dozing and Sirius contemplating that if this did have to be his last cigarette, he was glad it was at least a post-coital one. One hand held it while the other stroked slowly up and down Helena's back.

"Di you have to go out tonight?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not as far as I know. Why?"

"It's our anniversary."

She blinked, then propped herself up and her elbow. "We have an anniversary?"

"Yeah. It's been a year."

"No it hasn't. Lily and James' wedding was only a few weeks ago, how can it have been a year-"

"True, but that's not what I'm using as the starting point."

"Well what are you using?"

"First time we slept together."

"So to you, the beginning of our relationship is when we first embarked on empty, meaningless sex?"

"Come on, Hellfire, it's not like it stayed meaningless for long."

"Didn't it? I've got six months of us missing, Padfoot, I don't know when it changed."

"Pretty early," he told her. "Maybe around your birthday actually."

"Really?"

'Yeah. The expression on your face when I gave you that," he said, pointing to the map of Atlantis which now hung on the wall, "was… Well, it…"

"Made you feel warm and fuzzy?" she asked.

"I was going to say the first time I'd ever appreciated how beautiful you are. I'd noticed before, but never really _noticed_, I don't think. But yeah, we'll go with warm and fuzzy too. And if you ever repeat that, I _will _have to kill you. Auntie-to-be or not."

"Alright, message received and understood. Uncle Padfoot."

"Girl or boy, d'you reckon?"

Helena considered. "Girl. What do you think?"

"Same. Little redhead. She'll look just like her mum."

"But with her daddy's eyes."

"Naturally. Perfect for making James give in to whatever she wants."

"Yep." Another short silence, then she said, "I still think we should celebrate our anniversary when we said 'I love you' to each other."

"That leaves us with one problem."

"Which is?"

"Our anniversary would be the same date as Lily and James's."

"Oh. Damn."

"Sex it is then."

"Sex it'll have to be."

"You don't have to look so miserable about it, Hellfire. I'm willing to take you out to dinner and ply you with expensive champagne. Is there something essentially wrong with that?"

She shook her head, looking as though she were fighting a laugh.

"Good. Get dressed."

* * *

"One thing I don't understand," Helena said over the aforementioned champagne, "is how Lily got pregnant to begin with. She told me herself they weren't planning on a family yet. I assumed she'd placed herself under a Contraceptive Charm, so why would that suddenly have worn off?"

"It probably didn't," Sirius pointed out. "They're invalidated by marriage, aren't they?"

She blinked. "Of course, I forgot about that."

Contraceptive Charms had been invented more than five hundred years ago, in an age when Britain had been purely Catholic. Naturally, marriage was for procreation and the production of children as well as the sacred union under that dogma. Contraceptive Charms dissipated the moment the woman they had been placed on wed. Lily had probably been unaware of that fact, therefore hadn't reapplied the Charm after her marriage to James.

"So Lily Junior is a complete accident."

"That won't matter to them," Helena smiled. "Lily was shocked, but I think she'll be fine."

"So will Prongs. Eventually."

She smiled. "You know, I don't think-" she cut off suddenly, grimacing.

"What's wrong?"

"Ankle," she answered briefly.

"Dumbledore?"

She nodded, giving him an apologetic look. "Seems I'm going out tonight anyway. Guess we're not eating out tonight."

"I'll pick up a Chinese on the way home then. Try not to be too long."

"I won't." She stood and kissed him. "And get wine. Get lots and lots of wine."

Stepping out of the restaurant, she buttoned her coat against the autumnal chill and went looking for a secluded place to disapparate. Not far from the restaurant, she found a damp, rather foul-smelling alley. Wrinkling her nose, she went inside the mouth of it, reasoning that she didn't have to spend more than half a second it in after all.

Sure enough, five seconds later, she arrived at Westmoreland Castle. She was almost delighted to find Dumbledore actually asleep, in his chair in front of the fire. He looked utterly harmless, like any other old man in the world. It seemed a shame to wake him up, but he had obviously summoned her for a reason.

She took his shoulder and shook it lightly. "Professor? Professor, wake up."

He snapped to consciousness instantly, banishing all notions of him being a harmless old man. He took half a second to recognise her, but frowned once he had. "Helena?"

"Yes, it's me, Dumbledore," she smiled, sitting down. "I can always come back in the morning though, if it's not urgent. You obviously need more rest than you're allowing yourself."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you can't have sent the message more than three minutes ago, but you managed to fall asleep in the intervening time."

He shook his head. "I didn't send you any message."

"But the phoenix tear—it started vibrating and I- I had a summons, I suppose, telling me to come to you. It wasn't exactly telepathy, but I heard it in my mind all the same."

He blinked. "It must have been reacting to a subconscious thought I issued in my sleep. How remarkable."

She sighed, feeling annoyed. It had been shaping up to be a wonderful evening, too. Champagne and Sirius and there might've been chocolate, or maybe all three at once… "Well, can you remember what the subconscious reason way? You obviously wanted to see me about something."

"I cannot, at the moment. However, there is something I would like to discuss with you."

"What?" she asked bluntly.

"Minerva told me you were feeling ill."

"Oh. I was. Am. What of it?"

"Do you have any reason you suspect might be the cause? Or when your illness grows worse?"

She frowned. "Obviously you know the answer to your question already, Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall will have told you. I feel that way after I've left Voldemort."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I- I'm not afraid when I'm with him, but when I leave I'm scared of everything, _for _everything. I have this immense weight of dread waiting for the next summons, and then when it comes, and I go, it's…exhilarating. Sometimes the contrast just makes me…burst." She looked at him very directly. "Why do you think it's happening?"

"Many possibilities. One is that this dichotomy you're experiencing may be so severe that it affects you physically as well. With no way to resolve the mental conflict—i.e. you cannot leave, it spreads and is expelled in the only way it can be."

"With copious vomiting?"

"Exactly."

"Brilliant. Can't wait for that to get worse. Am I going to start bleeding from my eyeballs next?"

He smiled kindly. "I do hope not." He clapped his hands together suddenly. "Ah! I have remembered."

"Good. What was it? No offence but I have an anniversary to get back to, and much as I enjoy your company…"

"I am not Mr Black?"

"Exactly."

"It is only a short piece of business: the Prime Minister."

Helena's attention sharpened. "She is the target then?"

"Almost certainly. The Ministry has now increased her security and put an auror on her personal staff as well."

"Alright."

"I also believe that what Voldemort meant by 'suppression' is not killing her. It seems likely he intends to place her under the Imperius Curse. It would be too early in his plans to kill her now."

"Dumbledore, if you know more about Voldemort's plans than I do—which you bloody seem to—then what is the point of me doing this at all?"

"Because I have no timeline for his plans, no details! We cannot stop any of it if we don't have the details; the whens, the wheres, the hows, and most importantly, Helena, the _whys_."

"Alright, I understand. I'll get the details. What questions do you need me to find answers to?"

By the time she left Dumbledore, more than an hour later, her head was buzzing and her hands were shaking again. Maybe imposing the no-more-cigarette rule hadn't been the best idea, at least not while she was still a spy. All those questions would have to wait to be answered though—Voldemort had not summoned her yet, and he shifted about. There would be little point in returning to Coughton Court, and she'd no chance in finding him by herself. Dumbledore had warned her to be subtle when gathering the intelligence the Order required. Helena knew she needed to be the opposite, and be as direct and blatant as possible. Once she started behaving like a perfect spy, Voldemort would lose all interest in her and she would never mind anything out. If she was subtle about everything, she'd just disappoint him.

She went home, accepting a large glass of wine from Sirius and gulping down at least half of it before saying anything. Then she did. "You know what's absolute _shit_?" she asked. "War. War is just a big, steaming pile of…wank."

"What did Dumbledore say?"

She drank the rest of her wine and held her glass out for more before answering. "Apparently they think out of the Healers at St Mungo's is working for Voldemort. He wants me to see if I can work out who it is."

He nodded and dished out the Chinese takeaway while Helena silently congratulated herself. She was getting very good at lying without lying.. No guilt, no awkward questions…it seemed like the perfect scenario. It wasn't till later, when she'd overdosed on red wine and spring rolls, and Sirius was passed out on the sofa with his arm around her, that she started to get worried again. It was only one thing, and it only worried her _slightly_, was what Dumbledore had said about her physical symptoms being an outlet for a mental fear. Or not fear, precisely. What was the term he had used? Dichotomy? Yes, that was how she felt.

Like something was fighting to get out of her.

* * *

**A/N: Well? Did you find the nuggets? Review please!**


	30. Chapter Thirty

**A/N: Sorry this took me so long to get out—it just went on and on! Also, this contains sort-of-extracts from my favourite book, **_**Jane Eyre**_**, which obviously I do not own. Enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter Thirty**

Despite the vastness of the space, the music completely filled it. Helena could almost see the melody, like a river, washing through and submerging everything. It seemed so thick she could taste it. With her eyes closed, she was buoyed up by it, floating. It was no tune she recognised, but its beauty was powerful. It reminded her of Veela song—or what Veela song did to men, anyway. It required her to dance. So, dance she did. She raised her arms as if she were waltzing with a partner, and began to turn on the spot, circling and spinning around the dancefloor, quite alone in her own imagination. _One two three, one two three, one two three…_

The soft clearing of a throat; she opened her eyes to see Sirius, in dress robes, of all things. She looked down at herself, surprised to see she was also dressed up, though in a muggle evening gown, modest but for a slit, right up her thigh. It was scarlet in colour, the shade of fresh blood. The imagery made her frown, but that disappeared when Sirius held his hand out for hers. When she gave it, he pulled her close to his body, inclined his head as though he wanted to kiss her. When she went to join their mouths, though, he pulled away with a dark, low chuckle. Her skin burned for him—he carried on teasing though.

He clicked his fingers, and the orchestra that wasn't there struck up again. Helena looked around, but could only see the spotlight on she and Sirius—not even the floor under her feet. _Was _here a floor under her feet? The music surged, demanding once more that they dance. It was latin this time; strings and a piano. Sirius led them in a tango, or a rumba, or some dance she couldn't remember the name of; quick-moving at times, slow at others, but passionate, sensual all throughout. His breath was hot against her neck, his hands possessive and his eyes the colour of a winter sea. They had not wavered from her gaze. Helena took a shuddering breath and prayed that he might always make her feel like this. More than desired, _needed_. She felt it too, like a line, a thread which was knotted under her ribs, connected to one in the same place under his. They were connected, but how strongly? What would happen if it snapped? Would she ever stop bleeding for the wound that could cause?

"You didn't mind me cutting in?" he murmured in her ear, voice warm and low.

She looked at him strangely. "There was no one else. There never is."

"So you were imagining me then?"

She nodded, though now she wasn't sure. It seemed to be the right answer though, since Sirius continued to dance with her. Helena lost all sense of time or space—just like when they came together physically, there was nothing but him; his smile and his eyes and his hard body beneath her hands. It was pure happiness.

Then the music changed. It was no longer tuneful, and the strings turned too high, too shrill, too up and down, seesawing. The piano was being pounded, bass notes being forced, booming, into the room. Hands that weren't hands curled around Sirius' shoulders, tore him away from her. Shadows swarmed around him at the edge of the spotlight. She could see him, but when she went to reach him, a hand curled around her own arm. This was far from shadow. White, almost luminous. It turned Helena to face her father. Have gave a warm smile which was not corresponded by icily-cold red eyes. Like Sirius, he offered a hand.

Sirius broke briefly away. "Helena! Helena, run-"

Voldemort snapped his fingers. "Hold him."

Helena could only stare as the shadows wrestled her lover back. Then she turned wordlessly, back to Voldemort. He shouldn't be here, Sirius couldn't see them together, it would ruin everything. This, apparently, did not concern the Dark Lord. His long white fingers beckoned.

"Shall we, my dear?"

She couldn't look away, couldn't say no, couldn't think, but her hand was coming out to take his anyway. It was a waltz this time, graceful and terrifyingly elegant. His robes billowed outward as he turned her around and around the dancefloor.

"Why are you here?" she asked, hearing her own voice sound weak and hazy. Issued from some point far beyond her mouth.

He didn't give an answer, only a smile which chilled her blood. She wanted to stop dancing, to make him release Sirius, or to beg if she couldn't make him. If it were up to her they would have stopped dancing, but she was unable to. Neither could she blink, she suddenly realised. The viper had her mesmerised.

There was a commotion from the shadows, then Sirius wrenched her away from Voldemort. Her legs fell back automatically into the latin steps. Sirius spoke quickly, urgently. "Helena, you have to listen to me."

She was too busy looking around to see where Voldemort had gone. He was still circling, him and his shadows pacing at the edge of the dancefloor. "Helena!"

At Sirius shaking her, she returned her gaze to his. "I don't understand what's going on."

"It's simple," he assured her. "You're in check, but it's really easy; all you have to do is move diagonally. He's expecting you to move left or right. Sacrifice me if you have to."

Aghast, she shook her head. "No! Padfoot, I would never-"

He kissed her. "It's alright, Hellfire. What else are pawns for?"

"Sirius, run-"

Then Voldemort was snatching her back. "Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, feeling increasingly as though she were falling.

"You must take your pick. Choose one of us."

"I _can't_," she whispered, ashamed.

"You have no other option," he replied, tone cruelly amused.

"But I want you both. I need him—I love him—but what you offer-"

"Then you choose me?"

"No, I… Don't make me. Please."

There was a flash of angry contempt on his face, then he was forcing a knife into her hand. It was wickedly sharp, and in the spotlight, violently bright. "Do it."

Then he pulled away, and there was more noise now. The shadows had coalesced into Death Eaters now, but they curled around Voldemort. Sirius was flanked by blurry faces she recognised: the Order was here. But no one was helping her, no one was telling to drop the knife. They were all yelling, all screaming for her to kill one of them: Sirius or Voldemort. She knew what the right choice was, so why couldn't she make it? Every time she advanced toward him though, something seized control of her legs and marched her back the other way. Helena was spinning again, blinded and crushed as the crowd closed in. She couldn't think, much less breathe.

She lashed out suddenly, the decision made in a fraction of a second. Silence immediately fell. So did Helena's jaw. The knife, handle still in her hand, was buried, hilt-deep, in Sirius' chest.

All the others vanished in a moment, and Helena could only stare in utter and complete horror at what she had done. Incredibly, Sirius smiled gently. No anger, no disappointment. Just the deepest sadness. As he died, the laughter began. Cold, high and cruel, filling her lungs and choking her.

She was left alone with that laughter, those cold hands and those red eyes.

* * *

It was the shaking that woke him, not the noise. That was muted anyway, soft little whimpers which spoke of fear and grief. She was sobbing, each one moving the sheets more as it rocked her. Her face was wet with tears, though her eyes were tightly shut, and she appeared to be still asleep. Sirius' heart sank. She was having another nightmare.

Gently, he stroked down her face. "Helena. Hellfire, wake up. Wake up, sweetheart."

His words appeared to have no effect, but a few seconds after that, she bolted upright, hand outstretched. "No!"

"Helena? Helena!"

She didn't seem to hear him, and her eyes flew wildly around the room. When they landed on him, they bulged, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch him, her fingers touching just above his heart. "But…"

She ran her hand over him again, harder this time, her fingernails scratching him a little bit. Then again, harder still, so that it actually hurt. "Ow. Helena, stop, you're going to make me bleed." He caught her hands when she didn't.

"Bleed?" she questioned blankly. "I killed you."

He frowned. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. "You what?"

When she continued to stare at him like he wasn't possible, he reached over and flicked the bedroom lamp on. He had to shield his eyes from the sudden onslaught of light, but Helena didn't even blink. She stared a little more, then threw herself into his arms, shuddering with sobs again. It was some time before he could get a shred of sense out of her.

"It was a nightmare. Oh thank God. A nightmare…"

"Yes, it was a nightmare. A nightmare about killing me, apparently."

"I- I didn't mean to, I didn't want to, I couldn't think-"

He put a hand to her mouth. "It's alright. I'm here, you're here. No one's dead. Calm down. It's alright… It's alright."

Helena went to sleep like that, her head against her chest and his fingers stroking through her hair, him repeating those words. Sirius lay awake for a long time though, long after her breathing had steadied and slowed. What was happening to her? It was rare adults had nightmares period, without some kind of major stress going on, let alone with the regularity she was. So _was _there something going on? She kept insisting there wasn't, but he'd noticed. She was paler, darkening circles were under her eyes, and she wasn't eating properly. Not to mention whatever the smoking thing had been about…

He must have fallen asleep worrying, because the next time he opened his eyes it was to pale grey daylight outside the curtains. Helena was gone too, though he could hear her rummaging about in the kitchen. Yawning, he got dressed and went downstairs. The smell of bacon frying greeted him when he pushed the door open.

"Oh good, you're up. Breakfast is ready," Helena beamed when she saw him. "I was going to bring it to you in bed, bit since you're here now! Coffee?"

"Um, yeah, thanks."

"No problem." She picked up the cafetiére and poured him a cup of fresh coffee, then tipped some into her own mug.

"Just guessing, but that's about your sixth cup this morning, isn't it?"

She gave him a quizzical look.

"You're perky. You don't do perky, Hellfire, it's creepy," he said bluntly.

Her face fell. "Oh, well you're welcome for the breakfast."

"I'm grateful. It's just not you."

"I suppose I'm just trying to make up for last night."

"You don't have to. Dreams can be weird sometimes."

She shuddered. "Tell me about it."

"Anymore weirdness?"

She looked up sharply, eyes suspicious. "What makes you say that?"

"You seem off. And if you're not pregnant and it's still going on, any ideas what's up?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Maybe you should get checked out. Talk to your Head Healer. What's her name? October Fountain?"

"No," she said immediately, "I don't want to bother Octavia. I'll ask Lily to look me over."

He nodded. "Alright. Make sure you do though, right? I'm worried about you."

She gave a wan smile. "You don't have to, you know."

"Boyfriend's prerogative."

"Fair enough." She kissed him and walked toward the fireplace. "I'm off. Love you."

"Love you too."

Sirius finished his bacon sandwich and then left for work himself, getting to the office just before nine. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Walter Dawlish were already there, and Moody, of course. Sirius was pretty sure he never actually left the Auror Office, unless it was to go to Westmoreland Castle. James was nowhere to be seen yet, but he'd probably been celebrating all night with Lily.

She enough, one minute past nine, James came in. "Morning."

"Morning, Prongs. How're the doe and the fawn doing?"

James frowned. "Huh?"

"Potter! You're late!" Moody barked suddenly.

"Sorry about that, Mad-Eye. Woke up late."

Suddenly, Moody's eye was zooming in on James with a disconcerting whirring noise. "Why? Someone spoke your food? Cast a sleep spell on you?"

James blinked. "No. I just overslept."

Moody continued to scrutinise him for a moment, then abruptly his attention snapped and he was addressing the room at large again. "Right, today is all about investigation. Identifying and tracking down these bastards takes time, patience and _constant vigilance_. You all know what you're looking for; I'm not going to bother repeating it. On your desks you've got ciphers—I want to you crack them. Find out what the message says. You have five minutes, and after that a Death Eater's going to burst in on your and you'll be dead. So hurry up."

Neither James nor Sirius needed more than three minutes to crack the code—it was simple enough, once you worked out the sequence of numericals interspaced with idiograms. It appeared to be Moody's shopping list. Tinned sardines seemed to be staple of his diet; he wanted thirteen cans of them. Maybe he had a cat. Though knowing Moody, it would like be a kneazle.

"Just so you know, it's insane," Sirius whispered to James with a grin.

"What is?"

"The idea of my two best friends becoming parents. You two are making me feel old before I'm twenty one."

It was an odd moment: they each had identical expressions on their faces. Dawning comprehension as James slowly worked out what Sirius meant—could only mean—and Sirius realising with a sick feeling that Prongs had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Or hadn't had, anyway.

Then he knocked over his inkwell, his hand was shaking so much. "You- You mean- Lily's… We're going to have a-"

"Yeah," Sirius said awkwardly. "Helena told me yesterday. Sorry, mate, I thought you knew-"

"You two old women finished gossiping?" a growling voice interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, we're finished, and you want six bananas and two chicken breasts and some washing up liquid, as well as a _ridiculous _quantity of sardines," James said at top speed. "I have to go, Moody. I need to see my wife."

"You'll see her at the end of the day, Potter, not one second-"

"Sorry, can't wait. We're having a baby!"

With that, and to everyone's surprise, he gave Moody a hug and then raced to the fireplace. "Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow."

The silence he left in his wake was stunned. Before anyone woke up, Sirius pulled a spare bit of parchment towards him and scribbled a very quick note to Helena. Lily wouldn't be in Godric's Hollow, she'd be at St Mungo's. In his state of fevered excitement, James' brain might be working just a little slower than an owl could fly.

* * *

It wasn't a good day for an owl to come tapping at the window. There had been an escape from a dragon reserve in Ireland, so there was a massive influx of burn victims, bite victims, and fall victims—some of them had been swept up by the escaping dragons and then dropped a little later on. Nothing worse than broken bones and a few concussions (the ones who had survived, anyway), but still, there were a _lot _of injuries. So she really wasn't in the mood to receive more bad news.

She didn't notice the bird at first, too busy mending a woman's broken arm. Once she'd done that, the witch tapped her on the shoulder. "Healer Malfoy, is it?"

"Yes?"

She pointed. "I think that owl wants to be let in."

Helena frowned and moved closer to the window. In its beak, the owl carried an envelope and on it was written her name. In Sirius' handwriting, which looked even more untidy and hasty than usual. She slid the window up and took the parchment, opening it and reading quickly.

_I've done something stupid—James didn't know about Lily & I assumed he did. He knows now—was going home but probably go hospital when he realises Lily isn't there. When you kill me later, could you do it quickly? _

_S_

When she got to the end of the letter, Helena found herself agreeing with Sirius in one point—she was definitely going to kill him, and/or otherwise torture him. Maybe some form of dismemberment would be in order. Though equally she was going to kill Lily. Why in the name of Morgana hadn't she told James? Sighing, she balled up the letter and shoved it in her pocket, then went in search of Lily. She needed to be warned—James would either be excited beyond measure when he arrived or completely incensed that his wife had kept the news quiet.

Spotting Lily, Helena grabbed her arm and pulled her into a corner. Lily frowned at her urgent expression. "What? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, but my boyfriend is going to be in _serious _pain when I get home," was the growled reply. "He let slip to James, Lily."

Lily's hand flew to her stomach. "Shit!"

"Yeah. And now James is probably on his way here, because he left the office to look for you."

"Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!"

"Yes. Sorry."

"No, it's not his fault. I should have told James last night."

"Yes, why didn't you?"

"I got scared again," she grimaced. "He got home and he was in such a good mood that I didn't want to spoil it-"

"Well, he's here now. So here's your chance to spoil it all over again."

Lily whipped around, and all the colour drained from her face. James stood at the entrance to the ward, his face completely full of emotion, though Helena would have been hard-pressed to name precisely which emotion it was. Apparently not wanting to make a scene if a scene was going to be made, Lily went toward him. James met her halfway, and once he had, it was fairly safe to say he wasn't angry. He'd picked his wife up, wrapping his arms around her waist and twirling her around, kissing her passionately.

Helena beamed. Maybe she wouldn't be killing Sirius after all. Possibly just slap him or something. As James continued to kiss Lily senseless, she decided that even that could probably be dispensed with.

Finally he put her down, still grinning. "I'm so happy. I love you so much."

Wordlessly, Lily kissed him again, tears rolling down her she noticed everyone in the world staring at them. She sniffed and wiped her face. "Oh, he's my husband. That isn't part of the treatment we offer."

There were a few laughs at that, and people started to go back to their business. Helena did too, as Lily and James' body language became more intimate. When she got a quick break about half an hour later, she wrote a letter to Sirius, telling him not to worry, and that no punishment would be forthcoming. Unless he begged for it.

* * *

Despite the vastness of the space, the music completely filled it. Helena could almost see the melody, a river, washing through and submerging everything. It seemed so thick she could taste it. With her eyes closed, she was buoyed up by it, floating. It was no tune she recognised, but its beauty was powerful. It reminded her of Veela song—or what Veela song did to men, anyway. It required her to dance. So, dance she did. She raised her arms as if she were waltzing with a partner, and began to turn on the spot, circling and spinning around the dancefloor, quite alone in her own imagination. _One two three, one two three, one two three…_

The soft clearing of a throat; she opened her eyes to see Sirius, in dress robes, of all things. She looks down at herself, surprised to see she was also dressed up, though in a muggle evening gown, modest but for a slit, right up her thigh. It was scarlet in colour, the shade of fresh blood. The idea made her frown, but that disappeared when Sirius held his hand out for hers. When she gave it, he pulled her close to his body, inclined his head as though he wanted to kiss her. When she went to join their mouths, though, he pulled away with a dark, low chuckle. Her skin burned for him—he carried on teasing though.

He clicked his fingers, and the orchestra that wasn't there struck up again. Helena looked around, but could only see the spotlight on she and Sirius—not even the floor under her feet. _Was _here a floor under her feet? The music surged, demanding once more that they dance. It was latin this time; strings and a piano. Sirius led them in a tango, or a rumba, or some dance she couldn't remember the name of; quick-moving at times, slow at others, but passionate, sensual all throughout. His breath was hot against her neck, his hands possessive and his eyes the colour of a winter sea. They had not wavered from her gaze. Helena took a shuddering breath and prayed that he might always make her feel like this. More than desired, _needed_. She felt it too, like a line, a thread which was knotted under her ribs, connected to one in the same place under his. They were connected, but how strongly? What would happen if it snapped? Would she ever stop bleeding for the wound that could cause?

"You didn't mind me cutting in?" he murmured in her ear, voice warm and low.

She looked at him strangely. "There was no one else. There never is."

"So you were imagining me then?"

She nodded, though now she wasn't sure. It seemed to be the right answer though, since Sirius continued to dance with her. Helena lost all sense of time or space—just like when they slept together, there was nothing but him; his smile and his eyes and his hard body beneath her hands. It was pure happiness.

Then the music changed. It was no longer tuneful, and the strings turned too high, too shrill, too up and down, seesawing. The piano was being pounded, bass notes being forced, booming, into the room. Hands that weren't hands curled around Sirius' shoulders, tore him away from her. Shadows swarmed around him at the edge of the spotlight. She could see him, but when she went to reach him, a hand curled around her own arm. This was far from shadow. White, almost luminous. It turned Helena to face her father. Have gave a warm smile which was not corresponded by icily-cold red eyes. Like Sirius, he offered a hand.

Sirius broke briefly away. "Helena! Helena, run-"

Voldemort snapped his fingers. "Hold him."

Helena could only stare as the shadows wrestled her lover back. Then she turned wordlessly, back to Voldemort. He shouldn't be here, Sirius couldn't see them together, it would ruin everything. This, apparently, did not concern the Dark Lord. His long white fingers beckoned.

"Shall we, my dear?"

She couldn't look away, couldn't say no, couldn't think, but her hand was coming out to take his anyway. It was a waltz this time, graceful and terrifyingly elegant. His robes billowed outward as he turned her around and around the dancefloor.

"Why are you here?" she asked, hearing her own voice sound weak and hazy. Issued from some point far beyond her mouth.

He didn't give an answer, only a smile which chilled her blood. She wanted to stop dancing, to make him release Sirius, or to beg if she couldn't make him. If it were up to her they would have stopped dancing, but she was unable to. Neither could she blink, she suddenly realised. The viper had her mesmerised.

There was a commotion from the shadows, then Sirius wrenched her away from Voldemort. Her legs fell back automatically into the latin steps. Sirius spoke quickly, urgently. "Helena, you have to listen to me."

She was too busy looking around to see where Voldemort had gone. He was still circling, him and his shadows pacing at the edge of the dancefloor. "Helena!"

At Sirius shaking her, she returned her gaze to his. "I don't understand what's going on."

"It's simple," he assured her. "You're in check, but it's really easy; all you have to do is move diagonally. He's expecting you to move left or right. Sacrifice me if you have to."

Aghast, she shook her head. "No! Padfoot, I would never-"

He kissed her. "It's alright, Hellfire. What else are pawns for?"

"Sirius, run-"

Then Voldemort was snatching her back. "Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, feeling increasingly as though she were falling.

"You must take your pick. Choose one of us."

"I _can't_," she whispered, ashamed.

"You have no other option," he replied, tone cruelly amused.

"But I want you both. I need him—I love him—but what you offer-"

"Then you choose me?"

"No, I… Don't make me. Please."

There was a flash of angry contempt on his face, then he was forcing a knife into her hand. It was wickedly sharp, and in the spotlight, violently bright. "Do it."

Then he pulled away, and there was more noise now. The shadows had coalesced into Death Eaters now, but they curled around Voldemort. Sirius was flanked by blurry faces she recognised: the Order was here. But no one was helping her, no one was telling to drop the knife. They were all yelling, all screaming for her to kill one of them: Sirius or Voldemort. She knew what the right choice was, so why couldn't she make it? Every time she advanced toward him though, something seized control of her legs and marched her back the other way. Helena was spinning again, blinded and crushed as the crowd closed in. She couldn't think, much less breathe.

She lashed out suddenly, the decision made in a fraction of the second. Silence immediately fell. So did Helena's jaw. The knife, handle still in her head, was buried, hilt-deep, in Voldemort's chest.

All the others had vanished, and Helena could only stare in utter shock at what she had done.

Incredibly, Voldemort began to laugh; cold, high and cruel. It filled her lungs, choking her—until he died, and she realised she was laughing too.

* * *

She woke with a gasp, but no tears this time. She was trembling though, still in shock and confusion at what she had done. Why had she done it? There had been so much she wanted to learn…

It was a moment before she recalled where she was, that just because she'd dreamed something didn't make it so. She looked to the left, to where Sirius was still sleeping peacefully. Thank Heaven. She moved over slightly and kissed him gently, spending a second reassuring herself of his breathing and his heartbeat. Well, this dream had been far more preferable to the other one, both in its content and the fact that she hadn't woken him up. She didn't want to have that conversation again.

She lay back down, closing her eyes and trying to persuade her mind to relax, to unscrunch and let her go back to sleep. It wasn't working. After ten fruitless minutes, she got up and went downstairs. Perhaps some cocoa would help.

The milk on the stove had just reached the perfect temperature as she pulled a mug from a cupboard, being careful not to clink it too much. It was unlikely Sirius would walk, but she didn't want questions to as exactly why she was awake at…_actually, what time is it? _

As she stirred cocoa powder into the hot liquid in her mug, there came a knock at the back door. Helena jumped, dropping the spoon. It hit the floor with a metal tinkling noise which sounded unbearably loud. As she stared at the backdoor though, there was no repetition of the sound. Maybe she'd imagined it? Though why she might imagine-

_Knock, knock, knock_.

She almost ran to the back door and pulled it open. Then she dropped the spoon again. Because standing in her back garden, looking like a particularly sour oversized bat, was none other than Severus Snape.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews!****  
**

******In other news, I finished the book! Editing and formatting is done for the ebook, and I'm waiting on a cover only. It should be published within a week or two - if you're interested, then please go to my profile, where you'll find links to my website, facebook, blog and twitter. Any updates re the book will come be on there. If you want more info, just PM me and I'll answer any questions you might have!  
**

******As far as PBI goes - I know Snape is more skilled than that to just be pushed away from someone's memories without that person being an Occlumens, but that's 15 years after this. Let's assume he's not quite there yet ;) **

**Enjoy the chapter - I'll confess, I'm not _entirely _happy with it, so I might take it down and do some tweaking later on. Let me know in a review what you think.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty One**

_Why did I leave my wand upstairs…? _

Attempting to look completely composed, and not at all like she was bricking it, Helena resorted to her fiercest glare and folded her arms. "What the _hell_ do you want?"

"I thought it was time for a school reunion," he sneered. "What do you think? He sent me."

"He who?"

"The part of the ingenue does not suit you. Stop being coy and come with me. I don't have time to waste in _muggle _London."

"Let me think about that—no."

"It wasn't a request."

"I wasn't aware you were my master."

"The orders _come _from your master."

"He's not my master either, he's my father, and all other summons have come by owl, not by slimy Slytherin."

"Evidently not this one."

To give herself more thinking time—she wasn't convinced—Helena asked, "How did you even find me? I've never told him where I live."

"You surely don't believe he needs to be _told_ to know? Besides, your house is the only one in this neighbourhood pumping out magic with absolutely _no _attempt at any kind of defence. Of course, I expected little better."

"Go away, Snape. It's two a.m., Sirius is asleep upstairs-"

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about Black. Well, in that case no wonder you you've no protection. Obviously he thinks he's invincible enough for both of you."

"Sod off."

"Very eloquent."

"How about 'fuck off', does that work better for you?"

"Do you really want the Dark Lord to come himself? You might be his daughter but I doubt sentimentality will stop him from expressing his…paternal disappointment."

"I'm not afraid of pain."

"And how about death? If not for yourself then for others?"

She would really have loved to hit him then, but something told her it was a bad idea. He probably _was _here from Voldemort. "Fine," she said shortly. "Stay here, I'll be back in a moment."

"We need to go _now_."

"In my dressing gown? Pretty sure he won't mind me putting some clothes on first, Snape. Stay here, don't move and don't put your greasy little fingers on anything, understand?"

She dashed upstairs without waiting for him to answer, praying that Sirius hadn't woken up wanting a glass of water or something. _She _might be able to control herself where Snape was concerned, but if Sirius saw him there would definitely be bloodshed. Thankfully, he was still in bed, and still fast asleep. _Thank Heavens_, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. Moving quietly, she picked up her wand from the bedside table.

"Solemnio." Once she was sure that he wouldn't wake up, she moved over to him and kissed him. "Forgive me, Padfoot. Again."

She dressed quickly and ran her fingers through her hair, to get out the worst of the knots, then went downstairs again. She must have been moving more quietly than she thought, since Snape didn't look up immediately when she entered the kitchen. He was not where she'd left him, instead standing in the middle of the kitchen. His profile was to her—complete with hooked nose, which she'd somehow forgotten was that big—and his head was bowed. In his hands was a photoframe. Helena recognised it as the one she kept on the kitchen windowsill. The picture it contained was one of her favourites, taken at Lily and James' wedding. The two of them were in the centre, with best man and bridesmaid flanking them. She loved it because they all looked so genuinely happy. They _had _been genuinely happy. It was before everything got so complicated.

Why Snape held it she had no idea. As she opened her mouth to demand that he put it back, she noticed his expression. It was…sad. He looked genuinely sad, looking at the photograph—sad, and angry, and a little bit disgusted.

"What did I say about greasy fingers?" she demanded imperiously.

He jumped, the photoframe slipping out of his grasp and falling to the floor. Helena had her wand out and caught it just in time, floating it to her hand. Snape, when she looked up, was even more sallow than usual. The phrase _caught red-handed_ came into her head. But just what he'd been caught red-handed doing, she wasn't sure. Had he been so focused on the photo that he hadn't even seen her? It was unnerving…she'd sort've gotten used to Snape being a giant bat. The idea of him having _feelings _wasn't one which made her comfortable.

"What's so interesting about this?" she asked.

"Absolutely nothing."

"You were studying it pretty intently for it to be nothing."

"The simple appeal of grinning baboons," he said swiftly. "Now are you coming or not?"

"After you," she sneered.

When they reappeared, the noises of their apparition echoed loudly for a long time. They had come to a vast, empty building, which was full of the sounds of dankness; dripping water and scuttling movements coming from every direction. There was orange light streaming through broken and smashed windows, high above their heads. There was absolutely no sign of any other human beings, Death Eater or not.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"North."

"Helpful."

"Sheffield."

"Better," she nodded. "Now where is he?"

"Coming."

There was another noise then, first below and then above the scuttling. A dry sound, despite the wetness of the building. Slithering. When there was suddenly a high-pitched squealing, and then a kind of snapping noise, Helena knew what it was. To confirm her guess, not thirty seconds later, Nagini appeared, winding her way out of the darkness. Helena shuddered.

Catching the movement, Snape's mouth curled in a smirk. "You don't like snakes?"

"I don't like _that_ snake," she spat. "That one, I would gladly wear as a pair of boots with a matching handbag."

"I would suggest you revise that opinion, Helena," a cold voice said from behind them. "For Nagini is far dearer to me than any other is."

She and Snape turned to see Voldemort, standing behind them as though he had been there the whole time. He probably had. She inclined her head. "Then I will do so. I apologise, Nagini."

No one—including the snake—missed the contempt, clear in her voice, but Voldemort let it slide. He turned to lead them to the far end of the floor, where a fire burned in an old oil drum. There were three chairs, and- What looked like a- It was. There was a corpse, just lying on the floor as though it were the most normal thing in the world. He looked like a vagrant; his clothes were very old, patchy, dirty, and the smell definitely indicated 'tramp'. His eyes were wide open, his expression frozen in surprise.

Snape gave the dead man no more than a single glance before he sat down, and Voldemort's eyes were on her, gauging her reaction. When she looked away, she made sure to look composed. And she didn't flinch when he said, "Dinner, Nagini."

Helena was very thankful that her chair faced away from the snake and her meal. It was bad enough to listen to.

"Do you know where you are, Helena?"

She nodded to Snape. "Sheffield, apparently."

"Specifically."

She looked around again, noticing the chains hanging from the ceiling, things that looked like iron smelting apparatus. "A muggle factory of some kind."

"Precisely so. Do you know why it has closed down?"

She shrugged. "The same old reason I suppose—no money to keep it going."

"Good. And can you guess why we are here?"

"No. You will have to enlighten me."

"We are going to replicate it. In every factory in Britain. We are going to close them all down, drive the muggles out of their jobs and make them desperate."

"Why? Sport?"

"Yes, but more than that. I intend to tear the nation apart, piece by piece. Not merely the wizarding world, though that is the primary target—the entire country. Like the dogs they are, I will make it so that the muggles are baying for blood. For a sacrifice."

"And for a saviour, my lord?" Snape asked quietly.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed. "Indeed, Severus. The wolves gathering at the door will soon be invited in to sit at the firesides." Helena sat back in her seat, eyebrows raised. Seeing the movement, her father's eyes turned to her. "What do you think, Helena?"

"I think…it's a daring plan. Brilliant."

"I am pleased that you like it." He looked at Snape. "Severus, as we discussed."

"Yes, my lord."

He stood, bowed, and then disapparated. Helena looked curiously at Voldemort, but there was no explanation offered. Evidently Snape was a favourite, and enjoyed preferment from Voldemort. Helena hid a smile at what Bellatrix might say about the idea of anyone but herself being Voldemort's favourite.

"Where do we start?" Helena asked. "The Queen?"

"With the Prime Minister. Elizabeth Windsor is merely a figurehead."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought she was the head of state."

"In title only. The royal family were foolish enough to allow lesser men to take power from them some centuries ago, and they've been too weak to get it back. The Queen is symbolic, and as with all symbols, she must be torn down—but later. For now she is unimportant. I will kill her when the time comes."

He stood, offering her a hand in a gesture which made her blink, then stare. "Shall we?"

Sharply reminded of her dream, Helena spent a moment simply looking between him and his hand in not a little suspicion. Was there a way he could be reading her mind? Or seeing her dreams, perhaps? Luckily, Voldemort seemed to take her trepidation as impatience.

"This is the last test," he assured her. "Then you will have everything."

She placed her fingers into his cold ones. "I will hold you to that."

It had been a long time since she'd done Side-Along Apparition, and she only barely managed to hide her revulsion at the prolonged touch of his skin. They apparated into the shadows of an otherwise well-lit street. At either end, there were tall, wrought iron gates, apparently manned by po- po- by muggle law enforcement officers. Helena couldn't remember their name. There was also a p-something-man stationed by the front door of one of the houses. Quite honestly Helena didn't know how they hadn't already been spotted, unless perhaps Voldemort could cast Disillusionment Charms in mid-apparition. Why hadn't they just apparated straight into the Prime Minister's bedroom?

"How do we go about this?"

"Mirage Charms—the police-" Police, that was it. "-will only see what they expect to. Disable the one outside number 10," he ordered her. "Then cast a Mirage Charm the other end."

She nodded, then stepped out of the shadows. The policeman, she simply appeared. It was no wonder he jumped. Before he could make any sound, she'd cast a Silencing Charm. The policeman tried and failed to make a noise, then stared at Helena again, his eyes bulging. A cruel smirk spread over her face before she flourished her wand again—a jet of red light hit him square in the chest, throwing him into a wall. She left him in a crumpled heap at the bottom of it, running to the opposite end of the street, glad she'd chosen not to wear heels. The Mirage Charm was a spell she'd only used at Hogwarts a few times, and never had occasion to since. But she knew she could do it, and do it flawlessly. Her father was behind her, after all, and she could always execute perfect magic around him. The idea made her shudder, but it was true. The Mirage Charm blossomed from her wand with ease.

She joined Voldemort by the black front door of number 10. "I'm guessing we don't just bash down the door."

He made no reply, only spent the next five or ten minutes casting counter-jinxes and various disarming spells on the house. Helena assumed that he was removing security and intruder alert spells. They had probably been installed after she'd told Dumbledore about the planned attack on the Prime Minister. Obviously they were still not strong enough to stop Voldemort though. Since she couldn't tell what exactly he was doing, she kept herself occupied looking around and keeping watch. Not that she'd have any idea what to do if they were attacked. She could more than hold her own in a fight. But exactly whose side she'd be fighting on was a mystery even to her.

Finally, Voldemort turned away from the house to speak to her again. "Once we are inside, Stun anyone you see. We will modify their memories later."

"I understand."

He tapped the door handle with the tip of his wand, and it swung soundlessly open. They met no one as they moved through the house, and made no noise. Voldemort looked like a shade, and Helena certainly felt like one. She didn't really exist, not at the moment. It helped with the surreality of it all. The house was like hers in style, though bigger. The master bedroom seemed to be in roughly the same place too. The door made not a sound as they entered.

"Cast the Imperius Curse on her."

She stared. "I've never cast an Unforgiveable before. I'm not sure I know how to."

He made a soft noise of impatience and incredulity, as if it hadn't occurred to him that anyone who followed him could not be well-versed in dark magic. He was about to answer when one of the bed's occupants stirred, sitting up. Voldemort pointed his wand casually, "_Obliviate_," before turning back to Helena. "Want the spell. You must feel the desire to suppress her will, to control her mind and force her to submit entirely to you. Assume the role of puppet master."

She raised her wand and moved around the bed to stand over the Prime Minister. Force her to submit entirely? Suppress her will? It would be too easy to think she had to do it. She could escape—somehow—and flee to Dumbledore, get him to hide her. There were ways of ensuring even Voldemort could never find her. But now she was here… And it was the least unforgivable of the Unforgivables, wasn't it? It wasn't as though she was about to torture someone, or kill them, a voice in her head pointed out. It would be a novelty, to feel it just once. To know what it was like to hold the balance of someone else's will in the palm of her hand…

"Do it now," Voldemort whispered.

A shiver raced through her. "_Imperio_."

The sensation was like nothing else she had ever experienced. It was very mild, almost nothing at all. It was a tickling, an itching at the back of her mind. She pursued it, delving through the connection to discover another thing entirely. It was another sense—she had taste, sight, hearing, scent, touch, and another. A sixth one she had no name for.

"A good casting."

"I can't see into her mind, or hear her thoughts, as I thought I would be able to."

"The link will grow stronger the more you use it," Voldemort told her softly. "Do not be too specific with your commands, or she will attract attention to herself and be discovered to be under a spell, or the muggles will remove her from office."

"How do I use to to best effect?"

"Set the goal and leave the method to her. She knows and will use the process of democracy to do your bidding, use it to destroy itself."

"So what should I have her do?" Helena asked, struck with the desire to see Thatcher pick her nose or do somersaults. Just for shits and giggles.

"Something simple, for now."

Something simple—then she wanted Thatcher to get out of bed, without waking up, and walk around the room for a moment. No sooner had the thought been formed in her mind, before it was even a command, the Prime Minster was doing so. Delighted, Helena beamed. Pretty soon, the muggle woman in charge of the entire nation was bending over to touch her toes, doing star jumps, press-ups, and all manner of other acrobatics.

"Enough."

She stopped immediately, directing Thatcher to go back to bed. "It's very subtle, the amount of exertion needed. I got carried away."

"Power is intoxicating," he replied lazily. "Now come. Back to the factory. You have earned your reward."

Snape was waiting for them when they arrived, coiled in one chair while Nagini was coiled in another. Helena had the impression that snake and man were giving each other a healthy berth, despite what she'd been told earlier.

"Severus."

He stood and bowed. "My lord."

"All well?"

"Yes. Whitelaw is under the Imperius Curse."

Voldemort cast a pleased glance at Helena. "As is Thatcher."

Snape's black eyes flicked to her face. "Then you wish me to-?"

The Dark Lord nodded once, then spoke to Helena. "I have been schooling Severus in Legilimency. He is already a skilled Occlumens."

"Well, he had to have _some _natural talents, I suppose," she said archly, lip curling as she looked at Snape. His expression remained neutral, and he made no reply.

"And he is going to demonstrate his new skill for me."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "There's no one else in the room."

"Very observant."

She drew in air through her teeth. It made a soft hissing noise. "You said the tests were over."

"And so they are. Did you expect that you would not need to follow my orders afterward?"

"I'm happy to follow your orders," she said softly, "as long as I see the sense in them. There is no point in allowing Snape to invade my mind. You know I don't lie to you."

Voldemort moved closer, until he was inches away from her. She felt his breath on her face—was surprise to find he _had _breath. "I do not explain myself," he said silkily, "to anyone. Nor will I begin to now. You will submit to Snape's examination. Or I will kill you."

Perfectly calm, yet knowing rage seeped out her every pore and that Voldemort could sense it, she nodded once. "Fine."

"Sit down."

She did so, and Snape pulled his chair to face hers, and locked eyes with her. "Do not struggle," he warned. "Doing so could break the link with the Prime Minister."

"I won't," she said, her mind racing wildly. There was no way she could hide anything from this magic, and it was all going to come out—that fact that she had no intention of sticking with Voldemort forever, that she was passing everything she could on to Dumbledore-

"_Legilimens!_"

Suddenly it seemed like her entire life and everything in it was marching past her eyes. Hogwarts, her home, her mother, childhood, the breeze on her face, the feel of grass against her fingers—then Sirius and every maddening, angry, tender, loving, stormy feeling he had ever whipped up in her. Every time they'd come together, she didn't care anyone looking at that, up to a point. The first time they had ever made love, she suddenly felt an appalling disgust that _Snape _might see it-

_No. Get out of there, you're not seeing it, get out, leave, GET OUT! _

She wasn't sure if she pushed hard enough or if Snape had no desire to see it anyway, but his attention shifted onto other people she loved: James, Lily and their wedding, the look on Lily's face when she'd discovered her pregnancy-

In an instant, everything in her head froze, and there was a deep silence. It was like a film had got stuck on one frame—all she could look at now was Lily. And then it all made sense.

Snape pulled out of her mind a few seconds later, but he knew, as she did, that it was too late. He might have had her over a barrel, but she'd found one to lay him over too. The link between black eyes and blue remained unbroken for a moment, as they silently compromised. He wouldn't give her away, and she would hold her tongue.

"Well?" Voldemort asked impatiently.

"Her first loyalty is not to you, my lord."

"And who is it to?"

"Her lover." It might have seemed like a betrayal, but Helena knew it was a reprieve. This, she could talk her way out of.

Red eyes assessed her with what was almost disappointment. "Black."

"Yes."

"Are you in love with him?" he asked her.

"Yes. But I don't see that it's a problem."

"You would place someone else above me and think it is not a problem?"

"Do you really believe that all your followers have no idea what love is? Do you think Narcissa doesn't love my darling brother? Or that Snape here has never felt true desire for anyone? That all their children are the result of wanting to maintain bloodlines only?" She smirked. "If you only took those who care for you above all, you and Bellatrix would be entirely alone." _Not that that would be a problem for her…_

"I could order you to kill him-"

"And I would refuse."

"Apart from Black?" he asked Snape.

"Nothing. She has revealed everything else to you."

She had to hand it to him. He was a good liar. But then he had to be.

"Good," Voldemort decided. "Then give me your arm, Severus."

He did so, and winced only a little when Voldemort lowered his index finger to it. That done, Voldemort smiled at Helena, who shivered. "We have the guest of honour already. When the others arrive, the party can begin." He ran his fingertips across her cheeks in a gesture which could have been affectionate except for the fact that it terrified her. "I hope you like your present."

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**A/N: Review please!**


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**A/N: I've just published my first novel, a historical fantasy ebook about Morgan le Fay - the original wicked witch or the original fairy godmother; the legend retold. _Arthur's Witch Book I: The Priestess_.  
**

**Links to Amazon are on my profile page, as are my official Facebook, Twitter and my own website. The sample of the book is free to download, so you really have nothing to lose. Please, give it a chance.  
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**I really have no excuse for why this took me so long to get out - thank you for the reviews, and please enjoy the chapter. **

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**Chapter Thirty Two**

They came as they had been bidden to, melting out of the dark. She'd seen all of them together only once; the first time she had come here, bearing the body of the only person she had ever killed. So far, she thought with a shiver. But she would never do that. It was too much. Then would be the time to get out. If the time wasn't already here. From the back of her mind, a tiny person was loudly and insistently demanding that she run and forget all of this had ever happened. The rest of her shushed the person and stood quietly, unmoving. She stood slightly behind and to the left of Voldemort, watching impassively as the Death Eaters arrived. Most of them—the smart ones, anyway—had guessed what was about to happen. After they knelt to Voldemort, they each gave her a subtle acknowledgement too, whether it was a nod of the head or a little bow. Helena made a note of their names. They could obviously recognised whose star was in ascendence now. She would have to work hard to stay in his favour though, she was under no illusion about that. One failure and it could all be gone.

When they were all assembled, in two lines down either side of the factory floor, Voldemort gestured Helena forward. For once, she didn't mind keeling at his feet. Just as long as it was the only time she had to. Far from her heart pounding in hear chest, hearing her blood rush through her ears, she felt the exact opposite. It seemed that her heart wasn't beating at all; that her blood was still and cold in her veins. The only thing about her that seemed hot were her eyes, and that was because Voldemort's gaze was burning into hers.

"Pledge yourself to me," he said. "Swear to serve me however you are commanded, to put me above everyone and everything else." There was a touch of cold amusement there now, reminding her of their conversation about Sirius. "Swear eternal fealty—to serve me into your death, if I bid it."

It slipped from her tongue like oil. "I swear."

"Your arm."

She put her left arm into his cold hand, and he pushed her sleeve out of the way. She wondered if he would comment on the pink scar that ran the length of her forearm, or if it would be in the way and force him to use the right arm instead. Apparently that was not the case, since he lowered his wand tip to her skin, pressing hard. It hurt, she could not have pretended otherwise, but she managed to keep any sound of pain to herself. The wand tip actually pierced her skin, forcing blood to well up. But it did not drip to the floor, or roll down her arm; instead it trilled over her skin in a specific pattern, obeying Voldemort. When the Dark Mark was complete, the blood dried, hardening into a black scab. With his other hand, Voldemort brushed it away. The crust came off, but the lines remained. The burning sensation progressed up her arm, until there was prickling pain all the way to her shoulder. It faded slowly as Voldemort let go of her.

"Rise."

As she did so, the Death Eaters began clapping slowly, savagely. Helena only looked down at her arm. _My God_, she thought, quite coldly. _What have I done?_

When she looked up, it was not Voldemort's eyes on her, but Snape's. They shared one mutually hostile nod, and then he turned away. Voldemort held his arms up for silence, and it fell quickly. "The time is ripe," he said. "Soon, very soon, we shall break open Azkaban, and release those faithful trapped there. Including your dear brother," he added to Helena, with a smile.

Sudden and vicious elation filled her. He intended to give her what he had promised. He would give her Lucius' life, to take as she pleased. Finally. "Thank you."

"You have my deepest and most sincere thanks, too, my lord," a voice said.

They turned to see Narcissa Malfoy approach, one hand on her belly. Helena raised an eyebrow. She hadn't known her sister-in-law was pregnant, but there was no doubt in her mind she was. But then it had been a long time since she had had any contact with Lucius. Narcissa smiled, apparently not noticing the nature of the look Helena was giving her—that of a wolf analysing prey before it struck.

"If I may offer Malfoy Manor, for celebration, my lord? We have a well-stocked wine cellar."

Voldemort nodded. "A good idea, Narcissa."

They all adjourned to Helena's childhood home, collecting around the dining table. It seemed incredibly strange for it to be full, since it had never been so in her memory. She sat at Voldemort's right hand, sipping only occasionally at the elf-made wine while everyone around her got drunk. Voldemort did not touch a drop, which did not surprise her. It was now well after four in the morning, heading toward five. Any later, and she ran the risk of not being home in time. But she knew she would stay until Voldemort told her she could go, at least tonight. He did not, not for over an hour. The mistress of the house tired more quickly than others, and begged the Dark Lord's indulgence to go to bed.

He smirked, as he always did at any kind of perceived weakness. Helena did too, at the ludicrousness of it. This was Narcissa's house, and she was so terrified of Voldemort that she begged permission to be allowed to _go to bed_? What was that level of power like?

"By all means," he said. "We must take care of the next generation of Death Eaters, mustn't we?"

When she was gone, Voldemort turned to Helena and gestured around the room. "How do you like your future home, my dear?"

She looked at him questioningly. "I thought it was my former home."

"You will soon by the only Malfoy heir. Legally, anyway. It will all be yours."

"And what of the child?" she asked. "Even with Lucius dead it will still live."

"Then you can do with it as you wish. Let it live, or kill it."

"As you did your son?" she asked quickly. "Because you thought he would be more talented than I… Do you still underestimate me?"

"We shall see."

She went home not long after that, feeling her arm smarting again. God, it hurt. Before she went to bed, she considered writing to Dumbledore, telling him everything and asking to see him. But what would she say to him? He would ask why she had done it, and at the moment, she had no answer to give him. Without hope of sleep, she changed into her pyjamas—long-sleeved ones—lifted the spell on Sirius and slipped into bed next to him. She was torn between feeling like her own flesh repulsed her from him, and needing his skin next to hers. She knew she should not wake him up.

_But then again...why shouldn't I?_

She should let him sleep.

_He's slept enough_.

Her desires were selfish.

_He would still enjoy it…_

Compelled to act, she shucked her pyjamas and straddled her lover. He slept naked, as he always did, and she took full advantage of it. His cock began to stir almost as soon as her fingers curled around it, blood swelling in. She only waited until it was semi-hard before she lowered her mouth to it, licking along the length and sucking the head. Sirius stirred, a faint groan issuing from his lips, though he didn't wake. Under her ministrations, it took seconds for him to come to full hardness. Helena knew she was already dripping wet and more than ready for him. Letting go of his length, she moved up his body, lowering herself onto his cock. That woke him up. Eyes snapping open, he focused instantly on her.

"Hellfire, what-" he cut off with a loud groan. "Where did this come from…?"

She put a hand to his mouth, not stopping the movement of her hips. "Don't speak."

"But-"

"No." She reached up to the back of his head, grasping his hair hard and forcing him to look at her, locking their gazes. "No words."

He could hardly fail to miss what was on her arm, but neither could he fully look away from her eyes. "What is-"

"It's nothing."

He frowned. "Nothing?"

She leaned forward, kissing him passionately and biting his lip. "Nothing. There's nothing there."

Suddenly any resistance snapped, and a dull look came over his eyes, rendering them as dead as two grey stones. It was all she wanted at this time, and a cold smile spread over her face. "Now. Fuck me."

He did so: hard, and fast. He flipped her over, pounding in her with complete ferocity, burying his face in her neck and giving her what felt like a serious love bite. She threaded her fingers through his hair, moaning loudly in pleasure.

"Do you want me? Tell me you want me."

"I want you."

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you."

"Tell me you _need_ me."

"I need you."

She came hard, loudly, exploding in pleasure with her every nerve ablaze. "Come," she ordered. "Come for me, come!"

He did so, with her name on his lips. Helena allowed him less than a minute to catch his breath. Then done with him, she pushed him of her. He was asleep as if he'd never been awake in the first place. Satiated and satisfied, she put her pyjamas back on before falling into slumber herself.

* * *

Despite the vastness of the space, the music completely filled it. Helena could almost see the melody, a river, washing through and submerging everything. It seemed so thick she could taste it. With her eyes closed, she was buoyed up by it, floating. It was no tune she recognised, but its beauty was powerful. It reminded her of Veela song—or what Veela song did to men, anyway. It required her to dance. So, dance she did. She raised her arms as if she were waltzing with a partner, and began to turn on the spot, circling and spinning around the dancefloor, quite alone in her own imagination. One two three, one two three, one two three…

The soft clearing of a throat; she opened her eyes to see Sirius, in dress robes, of all things. She looks down at herself, surprised to see she was also dressed up, though in a muggle evening gown, modest but for a slit, right up her thigh. It was scarlet in colour, the shade of fresh blood. The idea made her frown, but that disappeared when Sirius held his hand out for hers. When she gave it, he pulled her close to his body, inclined his head as though he wanted to kiss her. When she went to join their mouths, though, he pulled away with a dark, low chuckle. Her skin burned for him—he carried on teasing though.

He clicked his fingers, and the orchestra that wasn't there struck up again. Helena looked around, but could only see the spotlight on she and Sirius—not even the floor under her feet. Was here a floor under her feet? The music surged, demanding once more that they dance. It was latin this time; strings and a piano. Sirius led them in a tango, or a rumba, or some dance she couldn't remember the name of; quick-moving at times, slow at others, but passionate, sensual all throughout. His breath was hot against her neck, his hands possessive and his eyes the colour of a winter sea. They had not wavered from her gaze. Helena took a shuddering breath and prayed that he might always make her feel like this. More than desired, needed. She felt it too, like a line, a thread which was knotted under her ribs, connected to one in the same place under his. They were connected, but how strongly?

"You didn't mind me cutting in?" he murmured in her ear, voice warm and low.

She looked at him strangely. "There was no one else. There never is."

"So you were imagining me then?"

She nodded, though now she wasn't sure. It seemed to be the right answer though, since Sirius continued to dance with her. Helena lost all sense of time or space—just like when they slept together, there was nothing but him; his smile and his eyes and his hard body beneath her hands. It was pure happiness.

Then the music changed. It was no longer tuneful, and the strings turned too high, too shrill, too up and down, seesawing. The piano was being pounded, bass notes being forced, booming, into the room. Hands that weren't hands curled around Sirius' shoulders, tore him away from her. Shadows swarmed around him at the edge of the spotlight. She could see him, but when she went to reach him, a hand curled around her own arm. This was far from shadow. White, almost luminous. It turned Helena to face her father. Have gave a warm smile which was not corresponded by icily-cold red eyes. Like Sirius, he offered a hand.

Sirius broke briefly away. "Helena! Helena, run-"

Voldemort snapped his fingers. "Hold him."

Helena could only stare as the shadows wrestled her lover back. Then she turned wordlessly, back to Voldemort. He shouldn't be here, Sirius couldn't see them together, it would ruin everything. This, apparently, did not concern the Dark Lord. His long white fingers beckoned.

"Shall we, my dear?"

She couldn't look away, couldn't say no, couldn't think, but her hand was coming out to take his anyway. It was a waltz this time, graceful and terrifyingly elegant. His robes billowed outward as he turned her around and around the dancefloor.

"Why are you here?" she asked, hearing her own voice sound weak and hazy. Issued from some point far beyond her mouth.

He didn't give an answer, only a smile which chilled her blood. She wanted to stop dancing, to make him release Sirius, or to beg if she couldn't make him. If it were up to her they would have stopped dancing, but she was unable to. Neither could she blink, she suddenly realised. The viper had her mesmerised.

There was a commotion from the shadows, then Sirius wrenched her away from Voldemort. Her legs fell back automatically into the latin steps. Sirius spoke quickly, urgently. "Helena, you have to listen to me."

She was too busy looking around to see where Voldemort had gone. He was still circling, him and his shadows pacing at the edge of the dancefloor. "Helena!"

At Sirius shaking her, she returned her gaze to his. "I don't understand what's going on."

"It's simple," he assured her. "You're in check, but it's really easy; all you have to do is move diagonally. He's expecting you to move left or right. Sacrifice me if you have to."

Aghast, she shook her head. "No! Padfoot, I would never-"

He kissed her. "It's alright, Hellfire. What else are pawns for?"

"Sirius, run-"

Then Voldemort was snatching her back. "Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, feeling increasingly as though she were falling.

"You must take your pick. Choose one of us."

"I can't," she whispered, ashamed.

"You have no other option," he replied, tone cruelly amused.

"But I want you both. I need him—I love him—but what you offer-"

"Then you choose me?"

"No, I… Don't make me. Please."

There was a flash of angry contempt on his face, then he was forcing a knife into her hand. It was wickedly sharp, and in the spotlight, violently bright. "Do it."

Then he pulled away, and there was more noise now. The shadows had coalesced into Death Eaters now, but they curled around Voldemort. Sirius was flanked by blurry faces she recognised: the Order was here. But no one was helping her, no one was telling to drop the knife. They were all yelling, all screaming for her to kill one of them: Sirius or Voldemort. She knew what the right choice was, so why couldn't she make it? Every time she advanced toward him though, something seized control of her legs and marched her back the other way. Helena was spinning again, blinded and crushed as the crowd closed in. She couldn't think, much less breathe.

She lashed out suddenly, the decision made in a fraction of the second. Silence immediately fell. So did Helena's jaw. The knife, handle still in her hand, was buried, hilt-deep, in her own chest. She could only stare. It didn't hurt, only felt very, very cold. The pain came rushing in when she pulled it out. It dropped to the ground, leaving a bloody splatter. With it, her strength evacuated her limbs too, and she crumpled, falling backwards into Sirius' arms.

His face was horrified. "What've you done?"

"I… I couldn't stop myself…" she whispered, putting a hand to her chest.

Before she got there, a cold white hand grasped hers, stopping her. Voldemort, crouching in front of her just as Sirius was, supporting her from behind. "Don't you dare touch her," Sirius told him, though he made no move to stop it.

Whatever pain there had been before was nothing compared to what she felt next; Voldemort slammed his entire hand into her chest. Ribs snapped, her lungs were crushed, and her heart seized with an iron fist. She screamed all the while. Sure enough, when he pulled his hand out, there was a bloodied lump that was only vaguely recognisable as her heart, clenched in it. Miraculously, the pain was gone. There was still a gaping hole in her chest, but no more blood pumping from it. With his prize, Voldemort turned away from them. She felt dizzy, and whispered that to Sirius. Told him she was sorry. She wanted to close her eyes.

"Hellfire, stay with me. Please, sweetheart, don't go."

She didn't want to go anywhere, but how did he expect her to carry on? She _didn't have a heart. _But her curiosity about what Voldemort was doing with it was powerful. Looking at the heart, it suddenly looked like it was…expanding. Getting bigger, growing- limbs. It was impossible, but within a few moments, it was obvious. He was growing another _her_. What was more, the wound in her own chest was healing, then gone. Able to get up now, she did so, staring at Voldemort and her quickly-forming doppelganger. Skin, then hair and a face-

The other her was crouched on the floor, and completely naked; Voldemort clothed it, in black robes much like the ones he wore. Then it turned around, and looked exactly the same as she did. With one exception: gleaming red eyes.

The doppelganger raised a finger to her lips. "Sshhh."

* * *

The alarm woke him up; seven a.m. with the first tinges of sunrise nowhere near visible. He was confused for a moment, then remembered the clocks had gone back a few days ago. Of course; it would be dark like this for months. Dark when he got up, dark when he came home from work. Brilliant.

The alarm had woken Helena up too, though with a much more dramatic reaction than Sirius. She was sat bolt upright, one hand to her chest and moving in the way it did when she'd had a nightmare. Again. She was looking wildly around the room.

"Helena? I know it doesn't look like it, but it's morning. Time to get up." No response. Damn. It was taking her longer and longer to wake up from these things. He took both her hands in his, feeling her jolt at the unexpected contact. "Hellfire, you know where you are?"

She nodded. "B-bedroom."

"And you're with me, right?"

She nodded again, then opened her arms for him. He hugged her closely, fighting a loud sigh. "What's going on, Hellfire?"

She shook her head. He pulled back and looked at her closely; her blue eyes were darkened, and there were dark grey circles under them. He frowned. "You look like you haven't slept at all."

"I feel like I haven't," she said with an odd smile.

"You up for work?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine. Just need a few litres of coffee."

She climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. He frowned. Not right. Still not right. Pushing back the duvet himself, he sat up and- And stopped. Because there was something weird in his lap—something slightly hard and crusty and which looked a lot like dried- But it couldn't be, could it? They hadn't-

"Hellfire?"

"Yeah?" she asked above the sound of running water.

"Did we have sex last night?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I'd say so."

"How do I not remember it?"

"No idea. _I _won't be forgetting it in a while."

Weird. Very, very weird. But equally not something _too _worrying…until it happened again. He needed a shower before he got dressed though, clearly. Helena came out of the bathroom just as he opened the door, still clad in her pyjamas. She grinned, kissed him, and then shut the door behind him. He showered quickly, and dressed, then went downstairs to find his girlfriend cooking breakfast, another cooked affair. It was delicious, but the more of these she made him, the more he couldn't shake the feeling that she was making up for something. Though what that was…

She seemed to have had all the breakfast she was going to have—which apparently consisted of nothing except a cup of espresso, another thing he wasn't happy about—and kissed him again, then stepped into the fireplace, disappearing into a billow of green flame. He ate the rest of his breakfast slowly, chewing on both the food and what was going on with her. Her behaviour recently had been so odd, so unlike the Helena she had been right up until…Lily and James' wedding. Right up until that moment when they'd confessed how they felt about each other. That was sobering. God, was she reconsidering? Had she not meant it? No, he thought suddenly, she did mean it. She yelled it at him in the middle of an argument, for God's sake, there couldn't have been a moment—except blind drunk or in the middle of sex—where her inhibitions were lower. No, she meant it. She loved him. So then what was it? Did she think _he _was reconsidering? That _he _had just said it in the heat of the moment, and didn't actually mean a word of it? Was that what this weird Stepford Wives thing was about? It made a twisted kind of sense. The midnight shags (as of last night anyway), and the cooked breakfasts…were they some kind of odd attempt to prove what a good little woman she could be?

Again, the idea was ridiculous. It wasn't Helena. She was who she was, always had been. Anyone who wasn't okay with that could get fucked. And that had always, _always _included him, in love with him or not.

_Right, _he thought determinedly, _I need to put a stop to this shit. Immediately. _

He got as far as putting his plate in the sink before remembered one slight hitch to the brilliant plan now formed in his mind. "Ah. Bollocks."

This called for advice of the kind only best mates could give. Following this plan, he apparated to the ministry and walked into the Auror Office with a resolute stride. Apparently it was more anxious than it was resolute though, since when James saw him, his brow furrowed in concern.

"You alright, mate?"

"Where do we stand on breaking promises?"

"Um… We don't. And I've never known you to. Why?"

"In seventh year, Helena made me promise I wouldn't marry her."

"Ah. And now you want to?"

"And now I want to."

* * *

**A/N: 'Stepford Wives' was the only analogy I could think of, even though I know it's a muggle thing. Review please!**


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**I've published the book! _Arthur's Witch: The Priestess_ is now available on Kindle and Smashwords, and you can download the sample for free, so it's gotta be worth a look! The blurb is below.**

_**Morgan le Fay is a woman shrouded in infamy. The original wicked witch, she is responsible for bringing the golden age of Arthur to a catastrophic end. Though evil guile, ruthless ambition and petty jealousy, she stood against the light of Britain's first Christian King, her own brother. She watched an entire kingdom burn. A subhuman monster who consorted with demons and became the Devil's mistress. **_

_**Or a woman shrouded in mystery. The original fairy godmother, she is responsible for creating the golden age of Arthur from the ground to the ramparts of Camelot. Though passion, purity of spirit and selflessness, she stood against the religious perversion which invaded her homeland and corrupted her King, her own brother. She protected an entire kingdom as a mother would a child. A High Priestess whose name and legend have been besmirched and besmeared by lesser men.**_

_**Her own story. Now told.**_

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy the chapter :)  
**

**Chapter Thirty Three**

To his credit, James only spent two hours teasing Sirius, before he passed into being genuinely pleased. Helena was a good fit for his friend, and apart from anything else, Sirius loved her and she loved him.

"Pretty sure she didn't actually expect you to fall in love with her when she made you promise."

"She seemed pretty serious at the time."

James shrugged. "Times change."

After a little more convincing, Sirius seemed happy that Helena wasn't going to hold him to his previous, anti-matrimonial promise, and that all evidence pointed to her saying yes, once the question had been popped.

Moody, naturally, did not take kindly to such things as frivolous as marriage being discussed in his Auror Office, and stamped the talk out as soon as possible. He did, however, keep his magical eye on Sirius for the rest of the day, James noted, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Moody did odd things after all, and he was probably just wondering why anyone would take such a risk as to commit oneself to _complete _and _everlasting _trust in another person.

The lunch break provided an opportunity to open up dialogue once again. The subject turned to rings. Specifically, the idea of expenditure. It followed that money equalled beauty, so spending a thousand galleons guaranteed a nicer ring than spending five hundred. Only James had spent less than two hundred on Lily's engagement ring, and she had loved it. And Sirius had no idea what kind of ring Helena might like. She'd grown up in one of the richest families in the country, and expensive things weren't a luxury for her, they were an everyday fact. And since her parents' death, she was an insanely wealthy woman in her own right. She didn't need him to lavish money on her, and she probably didn't want him to either. Of course, he didn't have all that much _to _lavish, but that wasn't the point.

"Just go with the colour of her eyes," James advised. "That way you don't have to do the diamond thing and she's happy because you've thought about it."

"Except I haven't."

"I won't tell if you don't. Besides, it's a good starting point."

There seemed no time like the present, so he sent an owl to Helena explaining he was going for some Quidditch with James—it was plausible, and very genuinely tempting—and then the two of them went ring shopping. It turned out not to be a quick process.

The first problem was that Padfoot had completely and utterly forgotten what colour Helena's eyes were. Blue, he got that much, but James could have told him that, and that left sapphire, aquamarine and every shade of blue in between. Which was a lot. The first jeweller they went into had over thirty different rings. And there were over sixteen different jewellery shops in Diagon Alley alone.

* * *

Helena rubbed uneasily at her forearm, trying to be surreptitious about it and feeling like she was probably failing. The damn thing hadn't stopped burning for hours. She'd half-expected it, remembering what it had felt like to get her ears pierced, but it was far more maddening than that. It was like she had been stung by a hundred wasps, and the feeling crept up her arm like cramp. The tattoo was invisible under her green robes, of course, but she knew it was inflamed. It had been very difficult to concentrate on anything at all today.

She was in the apothecary lab, mixing a burn salve from the various ingredients there. It was one of many such things fully qualified Healers were expected to know how to produce on demand. Very useful for Healers in the field, wherever 'the field' might take them. Only about half her concentration was on the instructions the apothecary was giving her; the other half was focused on not rolling her sleeve up and smearing some of the soothing balm onto her arm.

When she reached for the final ingredient, a tiny bottle of mandarin extract, the apothecary grabbed her wrist. Helena reflexively snatched it from him, horror instantly in her mind. How had-

Then she stopped to look at what he was looking at; what she had been reaching for wasn't mandarin extract, it was ludwin juice. The apothecary didn't have to say anything else, Helena knew the potential consequences of her actions. She groaned, putting the ludwin juice down and running a hand through her dark hair. "By Morgana, I'm bad at this."

"Yes you are," a voice spoke from the doorway. Octavia Fantaine was stood there, her arms folded. She made her way over to the two of them, peering down into the pestle and mortar Helena was mixing the salve in. "So, rather than heal the burn, you decided to horrifically scar your patient?"

"I wasn't concentrating," Helena explained, feeling blood rush to her face. Evil bitch she might be, but Octavia did know what she was talking about in terms of healing.

"So it would seem. Most unlike you, Healer Malfoy."

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure? Perhaps you should come to my office, and we can talk about it. Come on." Her tone was light, friendly, but firm. Helena had no choice but to follow her to her office. Once there, Octavia shut the door. "It's your arm, isn't it?"

Helena frowned. "How did you know?"

"We've all been through it, my dear. It hurts, and I doubt you'd find anyone who said otherwise."

"Except maybe Bellatrix."

Octavia smirked. "Except maybe her. Come, roll your sleeve up and let's have a look at it."

Helena did so, revealing the Dark Mark. Her whole arm was reddened and swollen, the blank standing starkly out. Octavia directed her to sit in a chair while she crossed to her desk drawer. "I have something that should help."

She came back with a small jar of mint-green cream, which she smoothed over the Dark Mark. It spread a wonderful cooling sensation over Helena's skin. After the irritating burning of the entire morning, it was bliss. Helena let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you."

"It will get better," Octavia assured her. "As soon as-"

If there was one person who should not have opened the office door at that moment, it was the one person who was pretty much guaranteed to, because naturally, the universe hated her. Having absolutely no idea what she was interrupted, Lily knocked and then opened the door before waiting for an answer. "Octavia, can I ask your help with a patient? I'm really con…" she could hardly fail to spot Helena there, and her sharp green eyes instantly swept over the two of them, widening as they saw the Dark Mark. "…fused."

She drew in one deep breath before Octavia had her wand out. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Lily's limbs snapped together, and she slowly began to topple. Helena shot out of her chair to catch her before she hit the floor. Thankfully she didn't have to explain her actions to Octavia; anyone falling loudly to the floor—especially someone whom almost all the staff knew to be pregnant—would draw attention. Lily's eyes were the only thing moving, and they were wide, very, very shocked, and angry beyond measure. Helena drew her wand too, with no idea what she was going to do with it.

Octavia had one solution. Standing over Lily, she took her wand and then pointed her own downwards, saying, "_Imper_-"

"Stop!" Helena interrupted.

Octavia cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? You intend to kill her?"

"No."

"Then…?"

"We use a Memory Charm. The Imperius Curse can be thrown off by a strong enough mind, and she might be a mudblood, but she's stubborn as a hippogriff. This way she doesn't have that chance, and she won't remember anything to tell anyone."

There was another knock at the door before Octavia could reply, though thankfully whoever it was did not simply open it. Octavia nodded toward Lily's prone form. "Be quick."

Helena immediately locked the door behind her, and then released the spell on Lily. The redhead leapt to her feet, backing away with an expression of complete horror. Not fear, just horror. Helena fixed her eyes on hers, trying to look as honest possible. "Please let me explain," she whispered. "Please, _please_, let me explain."

"There is no explanation that could ever be good enough, Helena." Lily let out a loud, angry sob, then pressed a hand to her mouth looking furious that she'd been made to cry. Then she turned back to Helena, her spine erect and her eyes steely. "Are you going to kill me? Wipe my memory? Put me under the Imperius Curse?"

Helena gaped. "You think I could do that-"

Lily pointed to her still-exposed arm. "If you can do _that_, then who the hell knows what else you're capable of?"

"Lily, you're my best friend!"

"How could I be—I'm a mudblood, remember?"

"Look, just- Shut up a minute and let me talk, would you? Here," she said decisively, throwing both wands to Lily, who caught them looking stunned. "Now will you listen?"

She didn't nod, but she didn't shake her head either. She just stared.

"I'll admit that I have been…well, doing what you think I have. But only because I've been spying for Dumbledore, the only reason. Everything I find out about Voldemort's plans and powers, I've passed on to the Order. Please, Lily, you have to believe me. This was the stupidest of things but I did it with the best of intentions."

Lily sat down on the chair behind her. "You're a spy?"

"Yes."

"Not a Death Eater?"

"No. Not really."

"Does Sirius know?"

"No," she breathed. "And if I can get out without telling him then all my prayers will have been answered."

"So what, you're just going to cover that up with makeup for the rest of your life?" Lily demanded. "Or are you telling me that's fake as well?"

"No," Helena said quietly. "It's real."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Throw myself on Dumbledore's mercy. And hope for the best. Do you believe me, Lily?"

Finally, the redhead nodded.

"And do you forgive me?"

This time, the answer was less certain. "I don't know. But Helena, you have to tell Sirius. There is no possibility of you hiding it from him forever. None at all. And if you tell him, then he'll be furious, and sad and disgusted-"

Helena was crying silently now, her heart twisting and contorting in pain.

"-but he might forgive you. Don't tell him, let him find out in some other way, and he probably never will." Reading the look on Helena's face, Lily moved forward, hesitantly taking her hand. "It wasn't you, doing all those things. It was what you had to do—for the greater good. You didn't want to."

Helena shook her head. "But I don't know how to start a conversation like that. I don't know how to _think _about starting it."

"Well, I'd say when you're alone. And maybe after he's got a drink in him?"

They managed a shaky laugh between them, though it faded quickly. "Don't tell Prongs," Helena asked. "Please. He'll have to tell Sirius and he- He can't hear it from anyone but me."

Lily sighed, but then nodded. "Alright, I won't tell him. But I don't like lying to my husband, Helena, or hiding things from him. Hurry up about telling Sirius."

* * *

Three hours later, they finally had a ring. It wasn't particularly big or flashy, but it was elegant and in Helena's style. A marquis-cut ruby (Sirius had decided against sapphire), surrounded by tiny pearls, set in a silver band. It would suit her. That was the hard part over with, as far as Sirius was concerned. It didn't really matter where or how he did it—the feeling was there, on both sides, and the rest would simply fall into place. They already had plans to have dinner out tonight, at the restaurant-cum-pub at the end of the road. Nowhere special, but she was special enough. They'd have dinner, he'd pop the question, they'd go home and have rampant sex and Bob's your cousin or…whatever the muggle saying was.

James did not share his optimism. "That simple, eh?"

"That simple."

"This _is _Helena we're talking about…she's a classy girl. Don't you think taking her down your local is a bit…"

"No."

"Hmm. Well, I suppose she has been roughing it with you for a while. Maybe she's used to common by now."

"You're so unfunny it's painful, Prongs."

James sobered. It was easy to see his friend was nervous (for him anyway) and maybe ribbing was not what the situation called for. He gestured to the end of Diagon Alley. "Drink at the _Cauldron _for luck? Or for Dutch courage?"

"Good idea."

* * *

Helena didn't get Sirius' owl; she wasn't at home when it arrived. In fact she'd left a message for him, using Lily as _her_ excuse. She was really on her way to Westmoreland Castle, to tell Dumbledore she wanted out. After her conversation with Lily, she was feeling simultaneously vulnerable and invincible. Lily knew. She knew, and she had forgiven her. Soon enough James would know, Remus already did, Peter would probably be a little nervous around her for a while but he'd be okay eventually, and Sirius-

Sirius was where the vulnerability hit, and all confidence deserted her. What if he never forgave her? What if he didn't even give her a chance to explain? It wasn't as if she'd betrayed his trust for any truly good reason—she might have discovered what Voldemort's plan was, got the names of a few Death Eaters, but that was it. She hadn't touched Voldemort himself, hadn't even made any kind of dent. All the good intentions in the world could not change that. Good intentions had been enough to heal the bonds with Lily, but the bonds with Sirius went so much deeper than that, connected them in so many more ways that if they were suddenly severed, both of them would be crippled. But knowing that didn't mean he wouldn't sever them anyway.

But Lily was right, above all. She knew that. She would simply have to trust in his love for her, that was all. It was strong enough. She needed him, so he needed her.

But for now, thoughts and fears of Sirius had to wait. She was here to face Dumbledore, which was a prospect almost as scary. She apparated to a point not far from the castle, to get her story straight, and flew the rest of the way in her eagle-form. Mindful that no one should know about her ability, she changed back to human before she entered the castle. Her heart was beating wildly, and she felt panicky all of a sudden. Dumbledore might refuse her. He might tell her that she had to go back, had to keep doing what she was doing. Maybe he couldn't point out the line between right and wrong for her, maybe it would stay blurred and she'd keep crossing it.

Dumbledore wasn't alone when she got there; Minerva McGonagall was with him. Figuring whatever Dumbledore knew, McGonagall probably did too, Helena pressed forward, moving into the light.

She must have looked as god-awful as she felt, because as soon as he got a clear look at her face, Dumbledore stood quickly. "Helena—what's happened?"

She swallowed, and with a trembling hand, pulled her sleeve up. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore," she confessed.

"Oh, you foolish, foolish girl," McGonagall whispered.

Dumbledore only looked down at the Dark Mark. "Why have you done this? You were never asked for it."

"I know, but- To help, I suppose? To get closer to him, to learn more to tell you, to pull him down faster. I feel like that's the answer I should give you."

"But is it the truth?"

She nodded, though had the feeling he knew there was more to it. Or could be more, at least. She was violently denying there was in her heart. "But it's a step too far now I've done it, Dumbledore. I know that seems pointless going this far and stopping, but- I'm in too deep and I don't like it. I want to go back,' she finished, sounding like a scared child even to herself.

"It's too late for that," McGonagall said sharply. "There's no taking that thing off your arm now. No magic will touch that, none."

Helena nodded. "I expected that. But still, I can't… I feel like he's watching me all the time now; being with him again would be too much. Please, Professor, don't make me go back."

"No," Dumbledore said finally. "No, of course I won't. No one could ask more of you than you can give. What you have got for us so far has been immensely helpful. There are other ways you can help the Order."

Grateful tears spilled down Helena's cheeks. "Thank you."

"Now we must work out how to hide you. Voldemort knows of your location…"

"Yes. He sent Snape to me there."

"So we cannot use a Fidelius Charm. Unless you move somewhere else..."

"No," she said quickly, wiping her tears away and forcing herself to think rationally. "Sirius doesn't know anything."

"At all?" McGonagall asked, looking disapproving again.

"Nothing. Yet," Helena added. "I intend to tell him the truth, of course."

"Then you had better do so quickly," Dumbledore warned her. "There are protective spells and enchantments that can be put in place around the house to make it impossible for most wizards to breach it, but for Voldemort himself it would be only difficult. If he truly wished to kill you for your desertion then it would be all-too-easy for him. Tell Sirius soon, and then you can move to an unknown location, and be completely safe. It's the only way to ensure it."

Helena wanted to think Lily had been wrong about telling Sirius as soon possible, but she couldn't ignore the warning twice. "I will."

She left them soon after, relief still overwhelming her. Even if Sirius didn't speak to her for a month, she didn't have to go back. She never had to be face to face with Voldemort again, she could avoid being in the same room as that _snake _for another thing… Relief fed optimism again, so when it was time for her to meet Sirius at the _Dog and Duck_, she set out feeling that she could probably handle this.

The good mood was completely and utterly demolished by the sight that greeted her. It probably wasn't Sirius' fault. He was a very good looking guy, and charming to boot. Obviously women were going to find him attractive. In theory, Helena had no objection to that. In practice… Well, she'd suddenly got _big _objections to that.

Waiting for her, Sirius had apparently decided to have a drink at the bar. At then been friendly and polite, and the barmaid had taken it upon herself to try her luck. She was doing it subtly—Helena trusted Sirius enough that if he knew he was being actively flirted with…he'd probably flirt back. But he wouldn't go further than that. Helena's anger wasn't really directed at him; it was directed at the little blonde bitch _throwing _herself at her man.

_I need to get my name tattooed across his forehead_, she growled inwardly.

The barmaid threw back her head and laughed, golden hair catching the light in a way that was supposed to be enticing. Then she actually reached out to brush a speck of imaginary dust off his shoulder. How Helena moved so fast, she'd no clear idea, but when the barmaid's fingers were an inch away from Sirius, Helena's hand got there first.

Keeping her eyes narrowed and locked with the barmaid's, Helena bent and pressed a kiss to Sirius' neck. "Sorry I'm late, darling," she purred.

He'd gone tense momentarily at her touch, but then relaxed. Helena felt a stab of uncertainty. He hadn't really been-?

When he turned around to face her, his smile was as open and happy as she had ever seen it though, which relaxed her. He kissed her without any shade of embarrassment. "What you drinking?"

"Hmm…champagne, I think."

He quirked an eyebrow. "What are we celebrating,, exactly?"

She gave a mysterious smile. "Ask me later."

They ordered, and when the barmaid handed Sirius his change, Helena only felt a momentary urge to break her fingers as they touched his skin. She was being less subtle than she realised though, since as they made their way to the table, Sirius chuckled, muttering, "If looks could kill, Hellfire…"

"What?"

"You! She's an innocent barmaid."

"I don't like the way she was looking at you." She checked over her shoulder. "_Is _looking at you."

"Well, can't blame her really, I mean she's only human, and well…_look _at me," he smirked.

"Yeah, but she knows _I'm _with you, and she's still doing it. I hate women like that."

"Jealous, over little old me? I'm flattered."

"You'll be flatt_en_ed in a minute if you don't stop being so smug," she growled.

He gave a short sigh. "It's just flirtation, Hellfire, it's not against the law."

"Oh, so you were flirting back were you?"

"Of course I wasn't."

"No, didn't look like it."

He stopped. "Okay, so you came here for a fight, is that it?"

"Of course not, but-"

"But what? _I _came because I wanted to have a nice dinner with my girlfriend and-"

"And what?"

"And instead you're biting my head off."

"I don't mean to, I'm sorry."

"Good."

She reached for his hand, and after a few seconds, he let her take it. Then he sighed. "Shall we just forget about dinner? Let's just go home and get fish and chips on the way, yeah?"

Her face broke into a smile. "Yes. Yes, that sounds brilliant."

* * *

Maggie Sharples closed the door behind the last punter with a sigh. It had been a long night, she thought, running a hand through her blonde hair. She'd been shouted at, flirted badly with, had her arse squeezed by men who had no right to squeeze it and only narrowly missed having a drink poured over her. She hated doing this, really she did. But in order to do what she really wanted to do—be an actress—she had to be in London. And to be in London, she needed a job. Hence the bar work. She had to work practically every hour God sent to pay her sky-high rent, and then she'd crawl home to collapse wearily into bed, without even time to check her messages and see if her agent had phoned. He normally hadn't anyway. It was not a good time to be an actress.

She was so focused on the idea of bed tonight that she went through the locking up process mechanically, automatically collecting up the remaining glasses and switching lights off, locking the front door and then bolting it, and only then going out the back way. She had to cross the small yard at the back of the pub in order to get out to the street beyond that—it was piled high with crates and kegs of beer, which created long shadows.

It was out of one of these shadows that her attacker emerged. Maggie saw the movement quite clearly, but what she was seeing didn't match what she knew to be possible. There was no one, and then _someone_,looming from the dark. The delayed shock caught up with her after a few seconds, and she physically jumped with a cry of alarm.

The attacker—hooded, masked and draped in weird black robes—laughed. It was a low, menacing sound, and made every hair on Maggie's body lift. It was the laugh of no one she recognised; she was not even sure it was human.

"Who- Who are you?"

"You can call me an avenging angel, muggle," replied the figure.

Maggie didn't understand that word, but she didn't need to. Instinct and the terror filling her legs made Maggie run. She bolted for the gate; three planks of wood that separated her from the safety of the open street, but to no avail. Se got no more than a few steps before there was a whisper behind her.

"_Immobilus_."

Utterly against her will, her feet froze in place, arms doing likewise. She could still talk though, and yell. So she did, loudly. "Help! Help me, please, someone, help!"

The person in the mask laughed again. "No one can hear you, so make all the noise you want. No one is coming to your aid. But please, continue," the shadow encouraged, circling back around to face Maggie. In a gloved hand was a stick of wood, about ten inches long and thin. At its tip burned a bright blue flame. Maggie had never been so afraid of a stick before in her life.

When she shouted for help again, the figure nodded. "Yes, that's it. Good girl. _They _can't hear you, but I can. And I want to hear you _scream_."

The stick of wood advanced, and it hadn't even touched her face by the time she started screaming.

Two hours later, her attacker turned away. Maggie had just lapsed into unconsciousness, passing out from either pain or blood-loss, and it was no longer fun. The wand was pointed at her head again, and the woman under the hood muttered. "_Obliviate_," before disapparating.

She was late, she knew that, but did not believe the Dark Lord would be angry. He was alone when she came to him, apart from Nagini. The Death Eater stopped to stroke the snake's head affectionately before bowing to Voldemort.

He gestured her back up with a pale hand. "I was beginning to believe you would not come."

"My apologies, my lord. I was delayed in getting away."

"Helena?"

A smirk twisted the red mouth. "No. She is sleeping peacefully."

"She still has no knowledge of you?"

"None at all."

"Excellent. Ensure she remains ignorant of it."

"Yes, my lord."

"What have you to report?"

"Little. She went to Dumbledore, as you expected, and told him all she knew. She has renounced you."

"Because?" he asked, apparently surprised.

"Fear," the woman answered scornfully. "And _love_."

"You desire him too," Voldemort pointed out silkily, analysing her.

"Only for his blood, I assure you."

"Perhaps he will be useful for breeding purposes in the future…kept under the Imperius Curse, naturally."

"Naturally."

"Go now. Report back to me when you can. Do not let anyone know of your existence."

She bowed, then disappeared into the night.

* * *

**A/N: So...any guesses who she is? Review please! **


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**I've published the book! _Arthur's Witch: The Priestess_ is now available on Kindle and Smashwords, and you can download the sample for free, so it's gotta be worth a look! The blurb is below.**

_**Morgan le Fay is a woman shrouded in infamy. The original wicked witch, she is responsible for bringing the golden age of Arthur to a catastrophic end. Though evil guile, ruthless ambition and petty jealousy, she stood against the light of Britain's first Christian King, her own brother. She watched an entire kingdom burn. A subhuman monster who consorted with demons and became the Devil's mistress. **_

_**Or a woman shrouded in mystery. The original fairy godmother, she is responsible for creating the golden age of Arthur from the ground to the ramparts of Camelot. Though passion, purity of spirit and selflessness, she stood against the religious perversion which invaded her homeland and corrupted her King, her own brother. She protected an entire kingdom as a mother would a child. A High Priestess whose name and legend have been besmirched and besmeared by lesser men.**_

_**Her own story. Now told.**_

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long to get out, people. Christmas and New Year were hectic. Still, here is the chapter. I hope you enjoy it. **

**Chapter Thirty Four**

"Well?"

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "No."

James' face dropped. "She said _no_?" he demanded incredulously.

"No, I didn't ask her."

"Oh. Well why not?"

"Because we had a fight, and I didn't feel that right after was the best time to propose marriage," Sirius snapped.

"Probably not," James agreed. "What were you- Never mind, with you two it could be anything. Are you going to try again?"

"Of course, I just … dunno when yet. I didn't think it had to be special but it wasn't special last night and it was a total disaster. So maybe there's some posh French place I should be taking her to."

"She's part-French isn't she?"

"Yeah...well, no, not really. Veronique's mother was French, but…" he trailed off, looking around at the rest of the people in the office.

James nodded, doing the same. No one appeared to be listening, but it was probably best not to mention Helena being Voldemort's daughter in the Auror Office of the Ministry of Magic. "She likes French food," he said, trying to sound positive.

"True. And there're French restaurants in London, right?"

James rolled his eyes. "I'd say so, mate. Might be a few more in Paris, but that's about it."

Sirius paused. "Maybe I should take her to Paris."

James rolled his eyes again and spent the rest of the morning ignoring the muttering about various restaurants and solo debates regarding the most romantic locations in London. He smiled, and then got on with his work. He was very glad he was a married man.

At one thirty, there was the clearing of a female throat behind Sirius. He turned to see Helena, standing at the opening of his cubicle. "I'd knock, but you don't seem to have a door."

He stood, kissing her. "As if you wouldn't end up barging in anyway."

"You free for a bit?" she asked, voice too bright and breezy.

"Sure? You want to get lunch?"

"Something like that."

They took the visitor's entrance up to London, and then walked to Hyde Park hand in hand. When they got to a bench, Helena sat down and didn't eat. She said she wasn't hungry, and that she'd already eaten, but it wasn't entirely convincing. Since someone watching him eat didn't make for the most comfortable of lunches, his was over pretty quickly.

"Alright, Hellfire, what's wrong?"

"Who says there's anything wrong?" she asked, though her voice was quiet and unchallenging.

"You do," he said firmly, lifting her chin up. "Now what is it?"

She swallowed hard, and when she looked into his eyes, hers were full of fear. "Padfoot … I've done something stupid."

"Alright … How stupid?"

"Incredibly. And I don't think you're ever going to forgive me."

He was silent at that, coming up with only one possible explanation. "Do I know him?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Well, this stupid thing you've done that I'm never going to forgive you for—what's his name?"

She stared. "You think I've cheated on you."

"Haven't you?"

"No!" she cried. "Merlin's beard, Sirius, how could you think I ever would?"

"Well you're the one sitting here going on about something you've done that's so terrible you're shit scared to tell me what it is!"

"But I'd never be unfaithful to you! Not like _that_, anyway." The last bit was said in a mutter that he almost, almost, didn't hear.

"Then what _have _you done?"

"You remember Lily and James' wedding?"

"Of course."

"And what came out just before it?" she asked quietly.

He frowned. "Of course I do, Helena … is this about that?"

"Yes," she replied quietly. "You know I went to see Dumbledore that night too."

He was suddenly angry again. "You said he didn't ask you to spy."

"Well, he-"

"He had _no _right to ask that of you, Helena, and you told me he didn't-"

"He didn't want-"

"To waste an opportunity, obviously!"

"Sirius!" she interrupted, raising her voice loudly so that he would actually hear her. "He didn't ask me to spy. He didn't want me to spy. That's not what I'm trying to tell you."

"Then for God's sake, woman, what _are _you trying to tell me?"

"That I-"

"Padfoot? Padfoot!"

At them muffled voice that sounded from Sirius' pocket, Helena looked completely confused. "Is that _James_?"

"Yeah, he- Hang on." Sirius dug out the two-way mirror and unwrapped it. "Better be good, Prongs."

"It is good," James said quickly, "Moody's threatening to castrate you if you're not back here in five minutes. You're late."

Sirius checked his watch, and swore. It was five past two already. "Alright, I'm on my way."

"Hurry up about it."

He folded the mirror back up and turned to face Helena again. She was now looking even more worried than she had before, and for a moment he was tempted to tell Moody to fuck it—she was more important.

"You should go," she said suddenly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She smiled, or tried to. "We live together, Sirius, there'll be time later. Go back to work."

"Alright."

He kissed her, intending it to be brief, but she pulled him down further, hungrily deepening the embrace. When she broke off several moments later, both of them were breathing hard, and Helena's eyes were glittering brightly in the sunlight.

"I love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

Helena watched him walk away feeling more guilty than she ever had in her whole life. Guilty, and ashamed. She should have just told him, and she certainly should not have told him to go back to work.

"You are such a coward, Helena Morgana Malfoy," she told herself in a soft hiss.

How long had doing the right thing been so hard? She had been doing it all her life, had refused to bow to pressure from her family, had gone against every principle they had in order to follow what she knew was the right thing. She sighed loudly. She knew when it had become so complicated. When she had got involved with Voldemort. She rolled up her sleeve, looking at the Dark Mark. _Since I got this bloody thing._

She spent another few minutes sitting on the park bench feeling sorry for herself, then decided to go back to the hospital. She was late herself.

The guilt deepened to abyssal proportions when she got an owl that afternoon from Sirius, apologising that she hadn't got out whatever it was she'd wanted to. As though it had been _his _fault. It was strange. All those times in the past she'd told him he was immature, that he was thoughtless and stupid—and now he was being the opposite of all those things. She wanted the old Sirius back. Just for a moment. He suggested they pick the discussion up at home later. Helena wrote back agreeing and trying to re-pluck up her courage. It was probably better to do it at home anyway. There was less chance of interruption that way.

Lily caught up with her later that afternoon. "Judging from the look on your face, it didn't go well."

"It didn't go at all."

"Helena! You _must _tell him! You can't just hope it'll all go away-"

"I know!" Helena snapped. "And the only reason I didn't tell him is because we got interrupted. He had to go back to work and I-"

"Chickened out?"

Helena glared for a moment, then relented. "Chickened out, yes. I fully intend to tell him, Lily, I promise. Tonight, when we get home-"

"You'll probably both be drunk by then."

Helena sent her a quizzical look. "I know I'm nervous about it but I wasn't planning on using Dutch courage."

The redhead sighed. "It's Peter's birthday, Helena, we're all supposed to be going to the pub for drinks, remember?"

"Oh, bollocks!"

Both she and Sirius had agreed to go as well. A nauseating mixture of relief and dread filled her. The moment of execution had been postponed, but when it was time again, would she be able to tell him? Or would all of her resolve have been leeched away by then?

"Don't drink too much," Lily advised. "And when you do it, do it quickly, like yanking off a plaster."

Helena appreciated the motherly council most of the time, but there were instances when being on the receiving end of Lily's developing maternal instinct was wearing. And at the moment she had no idea what she was talking about. "What's a plaster?"

"It's a thing muggles put over cuts and scrapes and things. To stop the bleeding and keep them clean while the body heals itself."

"Oh. How long does that take?"

"A few days, if it's a small cut," Lily shrugged.

"A few _days_? Merlin's beard, how do muggles get anything done?"

"Slower than we do. The point is that plasters are sticky, and pulling them off a bit at a time hurts more than just ripping it off. So when you tell Padfoot, tell him quickly and get it over and done with."

"Over and done with," she nodded. "Just do it."

Lily smiled encouragingly. "Just do it."

They all met at the pub at around six, though Remus was a little late. There was a new patch on the elbow of his old jacket, and the turn-ups of his jeans were frayed. He also looked very tired. "Sorry I'm late. Overslept."

"Are you working nights?" Helena asked.

"Yeah, as a porter at a hospital. St Thomas's."

"Is that a muggle one?" Helena asked quietly.

He nodded, though looked relieved when she didn't ask why, as well as a little suspicious. Helena had never told him—in so many words—she knew of his condition, but she was fairly certain he was aware. She hoped he also knew that she would never betray his secret. Hopefully he would not have to protect hers for much longer.

* * *

At the bar, Sirius and James were waiting in the queue for drinks. It was longer than usual, and they had been waiting for several minutes already. Finally the landlord got to them.

"Sorry it's taking so long tonight, lads. We're short-handed."

"Yeah, we noticed," James said. "Why's that? Isn't there normally a girl who works here? Blonde, very pretty? _Mildly _pretty," he added hastily, remembering his wife standing not too far away.

At his question, the landlord stopped, looking extremely sombre. "You've not heard?"

They shook their heads.

"She was attacked last night while she was locking up."

"Attacked?"

"Yeah. Whoever the bastard was, what he did to her … God, it makes me sick just to think about it."

"What?"

"Maggie had her eyes gouged out. Both of them. And she- She had all her fingers cut off too. Delivery man found her this morning in the yard. She's in hospital now. The police have talked to her, but there's no trace of the guy."

"Merlin's beard…" Sirius breathed, to glares from his companion. "_Why_ would anyone do that?"

"No idea. Maggie says she has no idea who it was. Hooded and masked apparently."

The Marauders took their drinks to a shadowy corner, faces very serious. They immediately related the story to the others, all of whom looked exactly the same. "Death Eater?"

"Sounds like it. Appears and disappears into thin air, just to mutilate a muggle. Sounds _exactly _like that scum."

"But just a random muggle, and just _one _Death Eater? They normally do that in packs," Helena said.

"So maybe this one's just a pyscho."

Peter shivered. "I don't think I like this pub anymore."

He was ignored. "Maybe. What do you want to do about it? Would Moody take it seriously if you approached him about it?"

"He hates all Death Eaters, so yeah. There are spells we can put up around the pub to stop them coming back, just in case. I mean, lots of muggles come here," James said, gesturing to the dozens all around them.

"So why attack one?" Helena murmured. "It would be far more effective to lock the muggles in, bar all the windows with magic and burn them all." At Sirius raised eyebrow, she coloured violently and reworded what she'd meant. "I meant more destructive. More their style."

"Maybe this one did something, who knows. Anyway, it's irrelevant," James said. "I'll owl Moody."

"Then I suppose we'd better get home," Lily sighed, putting her orange juice down. She turned to face Peter, who was looking understandably glum. "Sorry, Pete. This must be pretty horrible, happening on your birthday."

He shrugged his round shoulders. "Not your fault."

Lily hugged him compassionately, kissing his cheek—he blushed. "Well, why don't you drop by Godric's Hollow on Sunday, and I'll cook you a Sunday roast. How does that sound?"

He brightened. "Sounds great. Thanks, Lily."

"What else are friends for? See you later, guys."

Goodbyes were exchanged all round, and the group broke up fairly soon after that, all of them heading home. Sirius and Helena walked, Helena struggling to find the words to tell him, and finding on a dry pit of sand where her larynx should be. It was a mostly silent journey. Until they got to Kensington Gardens.

"Bastards!"

Her beautiful purple front door had been completely smashed in, and was now little more than wooden splinters. When Helena went to run inside, he gripped her hand. "Wait! They might still be in there."

They pulled their wands out and proceeded slowly into the house. Nothing seemed to be out of place—there was a scorch mark on the floor of the hallway, where the door had been blown in. But nothing else was wrong. He still didn't let go of her hand though.

"There's no one here," she whispered, then wondered why she was whispering.

"We don't know that. We have to check everywhere."

Together, they moved around the house room by room: kitchen, living room, bedrooms, library and bathrooms. There was no trance of any remaining intruders though.

"Nothing's missing," Helena frowned. "Is there?"

He checked the drawer on his side of the bed, finding the ring still safe. "No."

"Then they were after us," she said, shivering visibly.

He nodded. That really made everything very simple. Life was horribly short. "Well, carpe diem."

"Seize the day. What are you seizing-"

Her hand, the other one of his own curled around the ring box. Helena's eyes were hugely wide, brilliantly blue even in the dark. He flicked open the box and held out the ring. "This is going to keep happening, stuff like this. And the next time, we could be in the house. And we could die."

The corners of her trembling mouth curled upwards, ever so slightly. "This is a proposal?"

"Yes. Shut up." When she did, he carried on. "And I don't want to die without knowing-"

"Sirius-"

"-that you could never be in doubt that I love you. Always will, in fact. So will you marry me?"

The answer spilled from her mouth before she thought about all the things he didn't know about. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"A hundred—a thousand times. Yes."

He kissed her, slipped the ring over her finger. For one brief, shining moment, the euphoria blotted out everything else. If this moment were to be preserved forever, he would love her forever, they would be happy forever, she would never betray him. The possibilities were infinite.

Then their lips parted, and all those glowing futures disappeared. With no warning, Helena burst into tears. Before he could say anything, she opened his hand and put the ring in his palm, then closed his fingers around it. He looked shocked.

"Hellfire, what-?"

"I still want to marry you," she said quickly, "and by God I swear I love you, but there's something you have to know. And after I've told you, there's a good chance you won't want to marry me, or have anything to do with me. So just hold fire while I get it out, please." She was breathing hard, hearing her own voice swift and pitchy, but she couldn't stop. "In September, when I found out about my father, I went to Dumbledore and I made him an offer. He didn't want to let me, but I knew I could do more than anyone else could, I could know things that no one else could-"

He interrupted her. "Please don't tell me what I think you're telling me."

"I haven't finished."

"Helena-"

The conversation got no further; Sirius phoenix tear began vibrating, hard. Helena's remained still. "Must be Mad-Eye," he said. "I've got to go."

"I still have to-"

"Then you'll have to do it later," he snapped back, standing.

She fell silent, making no effort to stem the tears. She hadn't even got to the worst part yet, the lowest of what she had done, and already he was furious. He was never going to forgive her when it all came out. Then he reached down, touched her face. He didn't say anything, but sighed, then kissedh er forehead. Then he was gone, leaving anxious sobs to pour from her.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-"

She cut off with a gasp as pain flared from her left arm. A summons. She had expected it to hurt—everything to do with Voldemort did—but she had not expected the compulsion to obey. It tugged at her nerves, biting at them like acid. She had to go, she'd die if she didn't, needed to go to him, to _obey her master_-

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He is _not _my master. I refuse. I refuse him."

Then the pain burned more brightly still, and her vision disappeared into a flash of white.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**I've published the book! _Arthur's Witch: The Priestess_ is now available on Kindle and Smashwords, and you can download the sample for free, so it's gotta be worth a look! The blurb is below.**

_**Morgan le Fay is a woman shrouded in infamy. The original wicked witch, she is responsible for bringing the golden age of Arthur to a catastrophic end. Though evil guile, ruthless ambition and petty jealousy, she stood against the light of Britain's first Christian King, her own brother. She watched an entire kingdom burn. A subhuman monster who consorted with demons and became the Devil's mistress. **_

_**Or a woman shrouded in mystery. The original fairy godmother, she is responsible for creating the golden age of Arthur from the ground to the ramparts of Camelot. Though passion, purity of spirit and selflessness, she stood against the religious perversion which invaded her homeland and corrupted her King, her own brother. She protected an entire kingdom as a mother would a child. A High Priestess whose name and legend have been besmirched and besmeared by lesser men.**_

_**Her own story. Now told.**_

* * *

**A/N: This chapter's really choppy, and I'm not really happy with it. But I hope you enjoy it anyway – I might take it down in a bit and do a rewrite. Thanks for reading :)**

**Chapter Thirty Five**

"What about…Rose?"

Lily considered. "Maybe."

"Or Holly? Violet? Ivy, what about Ivy?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Why do you want a plant name so much?"

James squeezed her a little closer. "Because then I can call you my two flowers."

"You're an idiot," his wife informed him fondly.

"But you love me."

"But I love you." She paused. "I have a question—what if it's a boy?"

"It isn't."

"Oh, I didn't know you'd invented an x-ray spell, love."

"I haven't, I just know. We're having a little girl."

Lily smiled softly and put a hand over her stomach. "If you say so."

When the phoenix tear around James' neck began to shake, both of them felt it. Lily checked for hers—in a bracelet—but it was still. "Dumbledore's being selective," she frowned.

"He wouldn't be—but Moody might need aurors."

Lily nodded, then tried not to show any anxiety. "Try not to risk your life too much."

He kissed her. "I'll be back soon. I love you."

"Love you too."

It was a slightly disconcerting feeling, apparating without any idea where he was apparating to. He still didn't know exactly how it worked, only that it had to be a property specific to the phoenix tear. It required you to lock on to the signal and follow it. When James had followed it, he found himself standing on a very rain- and windswept dock, and was instantly drenched and chilled to the bone.

As predicted, Moody was there, equally soaked but completely unphased by it. "Potter, good. Shacklebolt's late, and as for Black-"

"As for Black, he's having a bad fucking day, so this had better involve a lot of violence, because I really need to punch something!" Sirius, newly-disapparated, yelled from behind James.

Moody gave a grim chuckle. "I'd say we're in for a bit of violence, lad, if that's what you're after." He pointed upwards, and they all followed his gaze. Above them was a black, squat, imposing structure. In apparently the middle of the sea.

"Is that Azkaban?" James demanded, above the howling of the wind.

"That is it. I'll explain once we're inside, come on."

A few moments later, Moody, James and Sirius entered the sparse entrance hall, dripping. They found that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been smart, and had apparated out of the rain. Not that Azkaban was exactly _dry_, James thought, eying the interior of the prison with disgust. The walls were weeping moisture, some kind of green slime was growing from between the stone blocks of the walls. A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye, and when he looked, it was a rat scurrying across the floor.

"Well, this is grim," Sirius commented from behind him.

"You can say that again," James replied. "What are we doing here, Mad-Eye?"

Moody turned from greeting the other two aurors with Shacklebolt. "This afternoon, all the defensive magics protecting Azkaban disappeared."

"And you think there's going to be an attack," Sirius assumed.

"A break out attempt, yes. Maybe even You-Know-Who himself."

None of them voiced the question as to _how _Voldemort had learned of the magic protecting Azkaban, unwilling to think about who the traitor could be. "Are all the aurors here, Mad-Eye?" Kingsley asked.

"No. Don't want to put all the flobberworms in one basket. But there are more here than you see. Plus the prison guards."

James looked up, seeing six or seven blue-clad wizards patrolling around in familiar routes on the upper floors.

"Do we know who they're going to break out?" the only female auror present, Sandra Shore, asked. "Or are they going for a mass breakout?"

"We don't know. Our intelligence on this is nil. We don't know when they're coming, how many of them they're going to be-"

"I'm guessing a lot," Sirius said.

"Probably. Patrol in pairs, and if you're attacked then help won't be far away."

* * *

"Late again," was the Dark Lord's greeting. "This is becoming an unfortunate habit."

The woman bowed deeply. "She required some…subduing, my lord, I am sorry."

He waved his hand dismissively, lacking the patience or desire for apologies. "The wards on Azkaban are lowered."

"When do we attack?"

"Very soon." He gestured to where a hood and mask lay on a chair. "Put them on. Do not allow yourself to be identified."

"Of course not." She put both on, concealing her face and hair beneath the grinning skull. "I take it, now that she has deserted you, you do not intend to keep the promise you made to her?"

Voldemort smirked. "Why ever should I not? _You _would still kill Malfoy, would you not?"

The woman's fist curled around her wand. "Gladly."

"Well, you'll soon have your chance. Don't do it in Azkaban. Wait for my order."

There was the sound of an impatient sigh from under the woman's mask, not trying to be hidden. Voldemort's hand snapped out with the force and speed of a snake, grabbing her chin in his cold fingers, hard. "You _will _wait for my order, do you understand?"

The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She nodded. "I understand, my lord."

As suddenly as he had seized her, he released her, thin lips turned upwards once more. "Good girl."

* * *

Sirius had joined one of the Azkaban guards on patrol, going up and around, up and around. He had been here for only about three minutes, and he already knew he never wanted to come back again. Definitely the most depressing place in the entire world. On their route, they happened to walk past Lucius Malfoy's cell. He got no small satisfaction from seeing how bloody awful the bastard looked—all the arrogance gone from his gaze, his white-blond hair hanging in ratty strands and his clothes tattered. Sirius wondered if knowing how much he'd been reduced would make Helena happy, or merely frustrated that her desire for revenge still hadn't been sated. In either case, he was glad she wasn't here.

He walked past Malfoy without saying a word.

Then the cold set in. The rain seemed to stop completely, the sound of the wind dying away, though from the windows it was possible to see that neither had ceased. But it was cold, and it was silent suddenly. Despite the fact that he had dried his clothes with magic, Sirius was suddenly very, very cold.

He pulled his wand out. "Dementors."

His companion laughed nervously. "Rumours aren't true, are they? You-Know-Who can't _really _be using-"

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

The wolf-shaped Patronus burst out of the end of Sirius' wand, going snarling and howling after the dementor that had just appeared at the end of the corridor. It quickly retreated, but more were coming. Cries of alarm rang out throughout the prison, from both prisoner and auror alike, and Azkaban was suddenly lit by flickering silver light and patronuses raced all over the place.

Somewhere in the midst of the repelling of dementors, the first Death Eater melted out of the dark. One auror was down before anyone noticed. Two, and people started to. When exactly the dementors were replaced with their human allies, Sirius couldn't really pinpoint. But suddenly he was fighting against a Death Eater who was quite intent on killing him. But while Sirius was defending himself, the other Death Eaters were blowing the doors off cells, releasing prisoners by the score.

One such Death Eater—a woman—blasted open the cell of Lucius Malfoy, dragging him out by his hair. She was forced to let go of him when Sandra Shore charged towards her. Sandy was a talented witch, and a seasoned auror, but she was being far outclassed by her opponent. The masked woman seemed to be dancing around every spell Sandy shot at her, while her own never failed to miss—either impacting Sandy or being narrowly dodged by her. The Death Eater also increasing the potency of her spells, ramping up to Entrail Expelling Curses and Blood Boiling spells, to finally Unforgivables. When the Cruciatus Curse came out, Sandy had to drop to the ground and scream in pain, her limbs spasming. The Death Eater took advantage of this to kick her wand from her hand.

Once stood over Sandy, she lifted her wand. Sandy had little time to recover; as soon as the light of lucidity had come back into her gaze, the Death Eater lifted her wand again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light, and a high, hideous cackling.

The cackling did not go uninterrupted for long—shortly afterwards, the Death Eater found herself on the receiving end of spells from every auror in Azkaban. She didn't stop laughing though. None of the other Death Eaters seemed to think it was that funny; the newly-released Lucius Malfoy among them. He grabbed whoever it was by the arm, pulling her out of the way of a bodybind curse, and jumped out of the hole in the wall with her. Below was only the storm-tossed sea—yet when they looked, there was no sign of them.

There was a shocked silence in the Death Eaters' wake, from prisoner and auror alike. It had been so _fast_. A couple of explosions, a few curses, and they were gone as soon as they'd arrived. The final dementors were being chased across the sea now, and order was restored to Azkaban. Time now for triage to begin.

James work up slowly, groggily, but at least he woke up. The rocks hadn't done much permanent damage to his head, thankfully. When Sirius helped him up though, he immediately crumpled again, with a groan of pain. "Think my leg's broken."

Sirius conjured splints and bound Prongs' leg so that at least he could stand, and walk with help.

"I saw Sandra get hit," James said. "Is she-?"

Sirius shook his head. "Dead."

* * *

As soon as they arrived in safety, the female Death Eater snatched her arm from Malfoy's grip, glaring. "I did not ask for your assistance, coward!"

"They would have killed you."

She threw back her head and laughed again, shrilly. "They could never have killed me."

"Who _are _you?" Malfoy demanded, peering closer at her mask as though he would see right through it.

The woman scoffed. "You do not recognise me? You are a fool."

"Indeed he is," Voldemort's voice came from behind them.

Malfoy dropped to one kneww. "My lord, I-"

"- have caused me considerable exertion and have cost me valuable time," Voldemort said silkily. "Along with your fellow _convicts_," he snickered, causing an echo from the others to ripple arond the room. "Did you tell them anything?"

"My lord, I would never betray you."

"You would for the right price, I am well-aware. Slippery little Lucius…" Leaving Malfoy cowering on the floor, he addressed the woman. "What trouble?"

"Some. The Ministry's finest were dispatched en masse," she smirked. "We managed. I killed one."

"Congratulations."

She bowed. "My lord."

"I believe there is somewhere you need to be," he told her. "Unless you wish to take your pleasure now."

The woman looked down at Malfoy, her fingers tightening around her wand. It was with great difficulty she restrained herself. Choking down the killing curse on her lips, she shook her head. "As you say, my lord. I have somewhere I must be."

* * *

When he appeared in the living room, it was to see Helena asleep on the sofa, as if she hadn't been at all worried for his safety at all. He could wake her up, yell at her a bit more, storm out and not talk to her for a few days. Or he could admit the fact that he felt shell-shocked and weary, and very much in need of simple comfort. He moved a bit closer, still unsure what he was going to do, when she stirred, then shot up like she'd had a nightmare, staring at him. Without a word, she reached for him, relief etched on her features.

"Who?" she whispered.

He frowned. "How-"

"Your face."

He sighed. "Sandy. Sandra Shore. It's a real war now, Hellfire."

Seemed stupid, to say it aloud, but it was how he felt. He'd talked to Sandy, liked her, seen photos of her kids and her husband, made her cups of coffee occasionally. And now she was dead. Maybe that was how war worked. It wasn't real until it was personal. It had been…fun, in a way, just another challenge, another game of cat and mouse to play. Except before now he'd always been the cat.

"Is anyone else-?"

"No. Few are hurt. James' leg was broken, but it's fixed now."

"And you?" she asked, a tremour just quivering her voice.

"Fine. Everything seemed to miss me."

"Thank God," she uttered under her breath, pulling back to kiss him. She managed a bit of a smile. "You look like hell, Padfoot.

"Right back at you."

It wasn't an exaggeration either—there were big grey circles around her eyes, purple shading that made the dark blue look withdrawn and sunken. There were tiny lines of care all around her forehead and mouth. He imagined he looked much the same. He certainly felt completely exhausted.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go to bed."

"But I have to tell you something-"

He put a finger to her lips. "I know what you were going to tell me. And it's okay."

"But-"

"Really, Hellfire. Now can we just go to bed? Please?"

She twisted her mouth, but nodded. "Of course."

"I have a problem," Helena told Lily the next day, as soon as they had a moment alone. She did a double check, but the locker room was free from all healers apart from the two of them. Finding no one else, she pulled her wand out and pointed it at the door. "_Muffaliato._"

Lily was frowning when she turned back to her. "What's up?"

"Octavia. You know the attack on Azkaban last night-"

"Yeah, James went."

"I was _summoned _to that attack."

"Summoned? He knows where you live?" Lily asked in alarm.

"Well, yes, but that's not how he summoned me."

Lily's eyes darted to Helena's green-clad left arm. "Dark Mark?"

Helena nodded. "It's like a…burning, and a compulsion to drop everything and just apparate to him."

"And you _resisted _that compulsion, yes?" Lily asked suspiciously.

The brunette nodded. "Barely. As it was, even the effort of that knocked me out. Sirius thought I'd fallen asleep when he got back."

"Did you correct him?" Lily asked tightly.

"No. I got closer than I have before, but he said he knew what I was going to tell him and asked me not to say any more. He also…proposed," she added guiltily.

Lily's jaw dropped. "Bloody _hell_!"

"I know."

"Talk about bad timing…"

"I know."

Lily looked at her hand. "I take it from the lack of ring you said no?"

"I said yes. And then my inner Lily started making me feel horribly guilty and I gave him the ring back. Then I told him—or started to—but then he had to go. He's still got the ring. Not sure he's going to want to give it back to me now."

She must have looked as utterly downcast as she felt, since Lily put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It'll be okay, Helena. Somehow."

"How?" Helena asked, wiping her eyes. "He's not going to want to come near me with a ten foot broomstick, Lily."

As she couldn't argue with that, Lily changed the subject. "Back on topic—how is Octavia a problem?"

"Well, she going to know I didn't turn up, isn't she?"

"Then she'll probably assume You-Know-Who gave you something else to do. And to be on the safe side, just don't be alone with her. She's not going to attack you in a ward full of people, is she?"

* * *

The Auror Office was a sombre place this morning. The emptiness of one tiny cubicle was glaring, and despite the fact that Sandy had hardly been a loud, chatty woman, it seemed overly quiet too.

Moody's reaction to the loss of one of his own had been pretty standard—he'd roared around the place like an angry lion, and then yelled at them all to find out who the Death Eater responsible was. No one had any idea though. There were few female Death Eaters, and even fewer whose names they knew. Bellatrix was one, but it definitely had not been her. There was something about that voice… Recalling it made Sirius' skin crawl. It was almost like finding there was a female Voldemort running around out there. To murder—_execute_—someone in cold blood like that was unimaginable. To enjoy it was even worse.

But none of them had any idea where to start. There was no list of Death Eaters, just potential names and ideas, which were mostly based on which pureblood Slytherin witches were most-closely connected with known Death Eaters. So, accordingly, they all worked on Moody's assignment. Some drew up names, others looked at possible hiding places and so on.

At what point Sirius discovered he had Helena's engagement ring in his pocket, he wasn't sure. But once he had, he kept pulling it out and frowning at it. Eventually James caught him at it, and at lunch asked him about it.

"You still haven't asked her then?"

Sirius shook his head. "No, I did. But she gave it back to me and basically told me she'd volunteered to spy for Dumbledore. On Voldemort."

"She _what_?"

"Yeah."

"But she can't have-"

"Apparently she can. After what happened it didn't—doesn't—really matter. She told me, that was the important thing."

"So why didn't you give it back to her?"

Sirius shook his head. "Dunno. Something…stopped me."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**A/N: I know, an update! Try not to faint everyone, and please accept my most humble apologies for the _ma-hoo-ssive_ delay in getting this chapter to you. My only excuse is that my inspiration ran dry. I hope you enjoy the chapter, but be warned: it gets quite dark towards the end, and contains some very rough/almost non-con sex.  
**

**Chapter Thirty Six**

Sirius meant to ask her again. There was no reason he shouldn't; nothing material had changed. He still loved her as much as he ever had, and arguably the air was clearer between them than it had been for a good few weeks. He knew she had been spying—more than that, had volunteered to spy—on Voldemort. But really, all he needed to do was ascertain that she was out of it and that there was nothing _else _she wasn't telling him, and that would be that. He didn't know how she had done it without him noticing. At night, presumably. But even then it was hard to believe he hadn't once been aware of her absence. Unless she'd been using magic to keep him that way. That would be worse than lying, outright treachery. But she wouldn't. There was a feeling of scepticism in the back of his mind though, and it suggested that he wanted that to be true rather than believed it was. He was probably the last one to know what she'd been doing, after all. And there were those strange gaps in his memory …

A lilac paper aeroplane zoomed over his head, landing on Mad-Eye's desk. He unfolded it, and the magical eye landed briefly on Sirius and James. "Black, Potter, go down to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office and see what the hell this is all about would you? I haven't got time to figure out Weasley's messages." He shoved the memo into Sirius' hand, then glared at them pointedly. "Now."

They headed down the corridor to the Misuse Office, Sirius unfolding the memo to look at its contents. It didn't contain anything about any artefacts, just: _Need to see SB & JP about tonight._

"Tonight?" James asked, when Sirius showed him. "What's happening tonight?"

"Order thing maybe."

They knocked on the door, and were admitted by a friendly-faced Arthur Weasley. "Ah, excellent, that didn't take long! I've got it in here, come in, come in." He shut the door after them and then dropped his voice. "Meeting tonight at mine and Molly's house, eight 'o' clock. Can you both make it?"

"Yeah."

James nodded. "I'm sure Lily and I can—but why aren't we meeting at HQ?"

"Dumbledore thinks it's safer if we keep moving around for meetings, at least for a while. I think there are more protection spells going on the castle."

That made sense, although it seemed like there couldn't possibly be any more spells that be could laid on Westmoreland Castle. Unless Dumbledore had come up with a new one himself. _Which he probably has_, Sirius thought.

"Lily and Helena should already know," Arthur said. "Molly's got an ante-natal appointment at St Mungo's today and she'll tell them when she sees them."

"How are we getting to yours?"

"Floo. The house is called the Burrow."

Information absorbed, they turned to leave, only for Arthur to stop them. "You also need to take that with you," he said apologetically, pointing to a huge packing case which sat in the corner. "I really do need Mad-Eye to take a look at it. It's full of dark magic artefacts."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Anonymous tip; it was in an antiques shop in Burmondsey Market."

It was bloody heavy when they took one end each, and it was the work of ten expletive-filled minutes to get it back to the Auror Office. It wasn't a complete waste of time though, since Moody spent the rest of the afternoon leading the apprentice aurors through the common enchantments dark wizards put on objects, and how to remove them. A few of the objects weren't dark magic-specific, such as the foe-glass that Moody immediately put on his desk, but some were so gruesome they didn't bear thinking about. Unfortunately for Sirius, he didn't _have _to think about their use too much, since a lot of them had been present in his childhood home. It was almost like looking at the contents of the drawing room actually. One Hand of Glory, check. One pocket watch, time-lock cursed, check. One pickled creature eye, check (though in the case of Grimmauld Place, the Blacks had a troll's eye, and this one had once belonged to a dragon). One pair flesh-eating gloves, check. It went on.

"All I'm missing is an abusive house-elf and I'll have the full nostalgia experience," he muttered.

Prongs raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Seriously? Your parents' home has," he picked up a book and held it between forefinger and thumb, "a grimoire bound in human skin?"

"No. They've got at least three."

"Urgh, these bindings are made of hair!"

"Now you know why I left," Sirius said grimly.

They had each been given an object from the packing case, and Moody expected a report from each of them. Included had to be a description of the object, the nature of the curse or enchantment laid upon it, as well as the recommendation of the auror as to the best way to remove said curse. They needed recommendations only, since actually removing the curse would be the job of Arthur Weasley and Bill Perkins. Their lives, Mad-Eye had emphasised darkly, could well be in the apprentice-aurors' hands.

Prongs could have done without the pressure, but Sirius found it helpful. It took his mind off what he was sure was going to be an unpleasant evening.

* * *

Octavia did not act oddly towards Helena at all—she continued to be mild-mannered, friendly and helpful to her. Lily, too, though she watched the redhead a bit more carefully. Probably because she believed her to be under the Imperius Curse. The serious injuries ward was full of the Azkaban wardens who had been wounded by Death Eaters. Some had lost limbs, others their minds—temporarily, most of them. Helena felt so sorry for them, the men and women staring at nothing, or wandering around asking random questions about the weather or relatives who were apparently dead, according to next of kin. It took a lot of Draughts of Peace to get these ones to keep still. Then there was a lot of Doctor Ubbley's to apply. They had to find out exactly what curses had been used against them before any dispelling could get underway.

"Okay, Miss Gladswynn, I just need you to look out of the window and tell me what you see," she said to her patient.

Annie Gladswynn looked towards the door. Gently, Helena turned her head to the window. Annie offered no resistance. "I see…rain. And clouds." She flinched. "Thunder and lightning."

Annie's father leaned forwards, looking concerned. "No, Annie…it's sunny outside, is it? Blue sky. See?"

Annie only smiled absently. "If you say so, Mum."

Mr Gladswynn looked at Helena in hopeless confusion. She tried for an encouraging smile. "Don't worry—this is quite normal in these cases. It's a more advanced form of the Confundus Charm really. Everything's the reverse of what it should be."

"So she won't- I mean, will she stay like this for long? It's just I don't fancy being called 'Mum' forever. Not sure my wife will either."

"Well, don't worry—we'll have her back to normal again in no time."

The curse hadn't been cast well. When it was, it was designed to turn enemies into allies. Annie was supposed to have been attacking with the Death Eaters, and probably shooting this ward up with various deadly spells, but whoever had cast it was an idiot, and Annie was thankfully harmless. It was no time before she was back to normal, in less than four hours, which Helena regarded as an achievement. Once she had Octavia between them had set most of the patience with neural disturbances to rights, Helena went to help Lily. She was working in another ward, this one dealing with physical wounds; healing burns, sealing cuts and attaching prosthetic limbs to those who needed them. A fair few aurors had had legs or arms blown off, but happily, magic was a highly useful tool in that. The replacement limbs did not look like those they had lost, being metallic in colour, but they were stronger and infinitely more durable than flesh and bone. Tricky magic, but something that every fully-fledged Healer could perform.

Helena ran up the stairs to the floor Lily was on, bumping into a redheaded woman coming the other way. Helena probably would have offered a cursory apology and continued on her way, if not for three things. One: the other witch looked to be heavily pregnant. Two: her handbag had been knocked off her shoulder, and the contents were now all over the floor. Three: she was a familiar figure.

"Molly! I'm so sorry, let me just-"

They both bent down—Molly with more difficulty than Helena—to pick things up; lipstick pocket mirror, several quills and some keys, and a note, written on a scrap of parchment. Molly reached for it, but then stopped with a significant look at Helena. Taking the hint, the brunette took the parchment and put it up her wide sleeve, then handed the refilled bag back to Molly.

"Again, I'm very sorry, Mrs Weasley," she said, more formally this time.

"Oh, no problem, Healer Malfoy, none at all."

With a cheerful wink, Molly was descending again. She paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Do give my regards to Lily Potter, won't you?"

Helena smiled. "I will."

She went inside the ward and easily picked out Lily, who was bent over a patient, rubbing a soothing salve onto his acidic burn. When Helena went over, she asked immediately, "Any change with Octavia?"

Helena shook her head. "Not one."

"See? I told you it would be alright," Lily smiled.

"Alright, mental note made: in the future-"

"Always listen to Lily."

Helena grinned. "Always listen to Lily."

"I need your help here—as well as the burn, Mr Palmer here can't-"

"Sssssssssstop sssssssslurring my sssssssssssssssses," Mr Palmer finished. "It ssssssssstarted when I got hit with a cursssssssssssssssse from one of the Death Eatersssssssssssssss."

"It's a common side effect," Lily assured him. "Sibilance Syndrome. Helena, could you help while I finish up here?"

"Of course."

They both set to work, and after a moment Lily gave Helena a sideways glance. "On the subject of always listening to Lily…"

"Please don't mention Sirius," Helena said, holding up a hand.

"So, despite the fact that he proposed to you last night, you're perfectly happy to not bring it up again and not admit what a huge deal it is?"

"Why is it a big deal? I love him, he loves me…isn't marriage a natural progression for a couple?"

"Yes, unless one half of the couple is a committment-phobe who runs away at the mere mention of the word 'wife'. Face it, Helena, not so very long ago, you were using each other for sex. Now he's proposing to you!"

Helena shrugged. "Well…I suppose I'm just a very good shag."

Both young women jumped as Octavia's voice sounded from behind them. "I'm sure you are, Healer Malfoy, but as far as I can see that's not really relevant to Sibilance Syndrome, is it?"

"Sorry, Octavia. We'll get on."

Octavia stood over them for a while, and Helena and Lily deliberately did not look at one another. Not because they were afraid of laughing, but because they couldn't risk Octavia spotting anything she shouldn't. Eventually, Octavia moved off, and both women gave a sigh of relief.

"Thought she'd never leave."

Helena nodded. "Lily, when do you start your maternity leave?"

"Not for about five months yet…why?"

"Just wondering how I'll bear this place without you," Helena replied. "Do you know what you're having yet, boy or girl?"

"Not yet. James is pretty convinced it's a girl though. 'Fatherly intuition' or some such nonsense."

"Might not be nonsense, you know. Sirius and I think it'll be a girl."

Lily smiled, but it was a confident, assured smile of a mother who knew her child inside and out. "No, it's a boy, I'm sure it is. He moves like he should be playing football."

"Playing what?"

"Football. It's a muggle sport where the players kick a ball around with the feet, try and get it into goals."

"What…just one ball?"

"Yep."

"That sounds incredibly boring."

"Well…yeah, it is to be honest."

"Besides, any child of Prongs', girl or boy, has to be a Quidditch player from the minute he or she's born."

Lily laughed. "Well, we'll see in a few months."

Helena checked quickly, but seeing no one around close enough to hear or see too much detail, she pulled out the note Molly had given her. It was brief and to the point.

_Meeting tonight, 8. The Burrow. I'll be cooking._

By half past eight that evening, Helena knew that she was a better chef than Molly. But Molly was a better cook. Helena could make a croquembouche, maybe, but she could never be able to make a sponge cake with such delicious simplicity. And she was fairly certain that when—if—she ever became a mother, she should take lessons from Molly, because hers was the kind of food that happy families grew up on.

The remnants of sausage and mash were off the table, and the plates were washing themselves up, and Dumbledore called the meeting to order. There were a lot of people crowded in the kitchen—including herself, Helena counted eleven, and of course the two Weasleys. The five Weasley children were all upstairs in bed, and sweetly asleep. Or so Helena had assumed until about five minutes ago, at which point Molly had had to take her toddler twin boys back to bed. They were far too young to understand what the adults were talking about, but Molly also but an Impurtable Charm on the kitchen door.

When Helena asked why, Arthur merely shook his head. "You don't know Fred and George."

Shortly afterwards, Dumbledore called for silence. "My friends, we are losing grounds. All of us are aware of it. Our numbers are fewer, our strength weaker than Voldemort's."

No one bothered to point out that if Dumbledore was going for inspiring, he wasn't going the right way about it. This was Dumbledore. Whatever he said about it, it would not be 'give up'.

"But physical strength is nothing without the intelligent strategy to back it up. And that is our weapon. Voldemort tries to kill people, so we will have already protected them. He destroys a building, so we will have already build an identical copy. We must be two steps ahead of him at all times."

"Then we need to compile a list of potential targets," James said.

"Exactly. Once we have, we can give particular people or buildings extra protection."

"All of them?" Arthur asked. "That's a pretty long list, Albus, and we're over-stretched as it is."

"True, but we cannot in all good conscience leave anyone defenceless if we don't have to. In addition, there may be a way to narrow down the list. Helena?"

Helena started, jolted from her thoughts by Dumbledore's soft inquiry. She recovered her composure quickly though, and didn't look nervous, only hot. It was boiling inside the tiny kitchen, all of them clustered together, but Helena hadn't removed her thick woolly jumper, just her coat.

"I can give you a vague idea—an insight into his overarching plan, anyway. My best guess is he'll continue baiting the Ministry, toying with them but not attacking in any serious way. Just enough to keep Crouch and his enforcement officers busy, so that they won't be thinking too much. But I think Voldemort-" Everyone flinched. "Sorry, the Dark Lord, will be just playing with them. Dangling a ball of string in front of a cat."

"Then what's he really going to be doing?" Sirius asked.

She looked at him, then seemed to be speaking only to him, as if he were the only person who mattered. It was true—she needed to be honest with him more than anyone else. "He told me he was going after the muggles. He intends to collapse their civilisation and sweep to power in the aftermath. The Prime Minister is- was-"

Was she though? Helena had cast the Imperius Curse, but she had no idea how to lift it. It might require a conscious effort to maintain it, so perhaps it was already dispelled. She remembered the niggling sensation of having another mind connected to hers—she didn't feel that now. The link was gone, so the curse must be too. But that didn't mean someone else hadn't recursed the PM-

"Helena?"

She cleared her throat. "Sorry. The Prime Minister_ was _under the Imperius Curse, and it's possible that she could have been subdued again after I left-"

"So it was your curse then," Sirius interrupted. His voice was neutral, but his eyes were hard as diamonds, and blazing.

Helena tried to swallow her fear and wet her suddenly dry mouth. She nodded, her voice coming out in a cracked whisper. "Yes."

He said nothing, and didn't move. That was left to Lily, who gasped loudly and put her hands to her mouth. "Oh, _Helena,_ you didn't!"

"I-"

"Helena had my full authorisation to do anything necessary," Dumbledore said quietly.

It was enough for the others, though Molly continued to look wary. Helena felt grateful for Dumbledore's support with everyone else, but she knew it wouldn't make a scrap of difference to how Sirius felt, or what he thought. She tried to put that impending argument out of her mind, and finished her answer. "I think vulnerable people will be a problem, but not in danger of death. In order to make his plan work, the Dark Lord will need to launch two coups, simultaneously—one in the muggle world and one in ours. It can be grassroots with the muggles to begin with, but here it can only work if he seizes control of the Ministry. He'll be recruiting."

"So we need to look out for people likely to join him."

"Not just the obvious ones either," Moody put in. "He'll terrorise, he'll blackmail, he'll curse. We need to watch people close to the seat of power. They are the ones at risk."

Dumbledore turned to Lily. "Lily, where might he start attacking in the muggle world? Where would make the most sense?"

"Um…power stations I suppose. Fuel depots, mines, water treatment plants, basic utilities. Things that society needs to function. Shut them down, and people will get desperate."

Kingsley nodded. "Extreme situations make people look for extreme situations."

"Exactly. It's actually one of the long-term causes of the Second World War," Lily said. "Desperation of the people enabled Hitler to gather mass support."

No one else around the table—apart from Dumbledore—had any idea who she meant, and Lily made a soft noise of annoyance. "Never mind. The point is, Kingsley's right. Desperate times call for desperate measures. The muggles are like anyone else would be in that situation."

"So, what we actually have to do," Remus summarised, "is prevent the total ruin and collapse of British society?"

"Er…yeah. Pretty much."

"No pressure then."

* * *

As soon as they apparated, the silence became oppressive. Helena was suddenly brutally aware of the difference between where they had just been, and where they were now. The Weasleys' home had been cramped, tiny, shabby and cluttered—oozing warmth, comfort and familial love. Number 17 Kensington Gardens was vast, empty, finely decorated—emanating poise and sophistication, upper class charm. This house could easily be the lair of a Death Eater. Molly Weasley's house never could.

She turned to Sirius—he was facing away from her, and made no move to look at her now. "Say something," she whispered.

He said nothing.

She moved to him, hands outstretched. Just as she was about to touch him, he moved away. "Padfoot, please."

"What do you want me to say, Helena?"

"I don't know, I-"

"Why the _hell _didn't you tell me?"

"I tried!" she defended. "But when I started to, you said you knew and that it was alright!"

"How would I call this alright if I'd known everything?" he shot back. "The Imperius Curse, Helena! An Unforgivable! Did you honestly think I'd let that one slide?"

"I had no choice—if I ever wanted to get any information out of Voldemort then I had to gain his trust! Being squeamish over a curse was not going to get the job done!"

"Squeamish? You suppressed and enslaved another living soul, Helena, stripped them of their free will! There is a fucking _reason_ that curse lands people in Azkaban!"

"You think I don't know that?"

"No, I'm not sure you do! What else has slipped your mind, exactly? What else don't I know? Tortured anyone recently? Or maybe you jumped straight to murder!"

"Don't be absurd!" she snapped. "I did what I had to do, and I didn't hurt anyone—I will not apologise for doing it!"

"I don't want you to apologise for the act, but there is no reason you couldn't tell me!"

"There's every reason!" she yelled. "How about the fact that you would have immediately tried to talk me out of it, if not put a body-bind on me right there and then! You're an auror, Sirius, how exactly was I supposed to break it to you gently that I was using the dark arts?"

"Forget breaking it gently, you didn't give me a chance to hear any of it! And you don't know I would have stopped you, or even tried to talk you out of it-"

"Oh yes I do!"

"How? He been teaching you Legilimency as well as how to be a Death Eater?"

"No—I know because you loved me! I know because you wouldn't have allowed me to risk my life, as you would have seen it, because you loved me! And-" her voice broke momentarily, indignation being replaced by fear and dread. "And however you feel about me now, that was true then, and it was the reason."

He looked at her incredulously, then stalked towards her. Involuntarily, she found herself backing up, except once she was against the wall there was nowhere to go. Sirius put his hands either side of her body, and his face very close to hers. He'd stopped shouting too, and instead his voice was low, but more full of emotion than it had been with all his yelling. "What do you mean, 'however I feel about you now', Hellfire?"

A sob rolled up from her chest. Hellfire. That had always been affectionate. Now he spat the nickname out like poison.

Then Sirius shook her. "Answer me!"

"I could hardly expect you to still have any feelings for me," she said. "And certainly none that could be positive."

"That's my decision," he growled. "Or are you taking away my free will as well?"

"Of course not-"

"Then shut the fuck up. Shut up."

She shut her mouth. And then promptly found it being opened again—by Sirius' tongue. She was hardly in a position to refuse him, and nor did she want to. All she wanted was for him to kiss her. She didn't care why. After successfully extracting all the breath from her lungs, and making her lips swollen (he had not been gentle), he pulled away from her mouth.

"And say I didn't," he said, ripping her skirt off, "Say I didn't love you …"

She needed him—God, she needed him. She unzipped his fly, yanking his trousers down. The only noise she made was to yelp in mingled pain and pleasure when he gave a sharp, almost vicious buck of his hips.

"Say I _hated _you," he groaned, fully sheathed inside her. He leaned down and buried his face between her neck and shoulder, wanting to mark her. To brand he. Helena's nails dug into his shoulders, but it was impossible to tell whether she was enjoying the rough fuck. Some dark part of him didn't care. "Would you still love me?"

She moaned. "Yes. Yes, always, Sirius, I love you."

"If all I wanted was this?" he demanded, kissing her roughly. Teeth clashed together as he worried at her lips. Their pelvises moved together, driving them both higher, faster. "To fuck you? To use you?"

Helena let out a sob, but clung to him still tighter. "Anything! Sirius-"

"You'd come when I tell you? Not one…_second _before…"

She tilted her head and kissed him again, just as hard.

He tasted blood in his mouth, and took it as assent. He briefly bit her earlobe. "Then come. Come right now."

Helena let out a keening wail of his name, and quivered into orgasm. He followed not a second later, draining himself into her, his willing vessel. Helena ran her fingers through his sweaty hair, her chest heaving. She'd never felt so full or so empty—so desolate or so in raptures. He had wrung her out completely.

"Sirius-"

He looked up, and she was immediately silenced. The contempt hadn't gone from his gaze, and there was hard iron there. "If that's all you think you're good for," he breathed, "then I guess we're done here."

Then he left, transforming into the great black dog and shooting out of the house. Left alone to collapse on the floor, sweaty, bruised and used, Helena sank down in sobs, hands to her bleeding lips and completely heartbroken. When the Dark Mark on her arm began to burn, she did not have the will to resist it. She disapparated immediately.

The room was dark. She huddled into a tighter ball and shook with her tears.

"This is how you come to me?"

Helena flinched at the silken voice that caressed her and flinched again at the cold fingers which touched her cheek.

Voldemort's red eyes examined the teardrops now clinging to his fingers with callous curiosity. Ordinarily, Helena would have resolved then and there never to cry again. Now she was too ashamed and heartbroken. And, she could not deny, she was scared. Very and deeply scared, she realised. She had been afraid for months. The only reason she had to be brave had abandoned her, five short minutes ago.

"Explain yourself," Voldemort said tilting her face up to see her eyes. As he did, he let a soft sigh escape him. "Ah…the other one."

"What do you want?" Helena whispered.

"Exactly what I called to me. Now I find I must fetch my daughter out myself."

"What-"

"_Legilimens_."

* * *

**A/N: So...any thoughts? Review please!**


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

**A/N: Ok, answers in this one, finally. Answers you might not like, but answers nonetheless. Thank you for the reviews from last chapter!  
**

**Chapter Thirty Seven**

Corrine Myles lived deep in the heart of England's green and pleasant land—so deep, in fact, that she had no neighbours within two miles who could see the Death Eater attack. Corrine was an up-and-coming witch who worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Not an auror, but a lawyer, who was in the process of drafting new legislation that would remove the need for a trial by a jury of peers for those accused of Death Eater activities. It had been hers entirely in conception, and it needed only a few finishing touches before it was ready to be sent to Mr Crouch, and the Minister herself. Corrine lived alone, a widow of forty-seven with her grown up children living in London. They had often implored her to come and live closer, but she lived contentedly in her rural home, a converted miller's cottage.

She was under close observation by two opposing, powerful forces, and completely ignorant of it. The Order of the Phoenix had her down as a potential target, so were monitoring her closely. The Death Eaters wanted her dead, for obvious reasons. Fortunately for Corinne, the Order were there in strength, if fewer numbers. As soon as the first spell was fired through the window, they jumped into action.

Most of the Death Eaters were sealing the doors, windows, even the fireplace. Anything to stop Corrine from getting out. She was a capable witch, and broke the windows to get out, but the exits weren't sealed with glass. The other Death Eaters were trying to set the house on fire. If not for the presence of the Order, it would have been a horribly elegant execution. Fire inside, killing curses outside, and no escape. But the Order were there. Instead of pointing their wands at a defenceless witch, they were producing Shield Charms, counter-jinxes and everything else necessary to repel an attack.

Sirius was fighting with more ferocity than he had in a long time. When the summons had come via the phoenix teardrop, the idea of a proper fight, where he had to hold nothing back, was incredibly relieving. The only thing that could possibly be more satisfying at that moment would be a physical fight that left his knuckles open. Just like he'd left Helena. Bruised and bleeding. Then he might be able to get some of the pain and guilt out.

He smelled singed hair, suddenly realising that it was his own and that the middle of a battle with Death Eaters was probably not the best time to be brooding.

"We need to extract Myles!" Moody yelled. He pointed at James and Sirius. "You two, open an exit path! You, form a perimeter, stop the bastards tearing the house down!" he called to Arthur and Kingsley.

James shot a Stunner at a Death Eater trying to sneak up on him. Considering he'd shot it over his shoulder without looking around, it was neatly done. "What about you?"

"I'm getting Myles!"

The plan formed, they all leaped into action. Once a corridor had been opened, Moody barrelled down it into the house, shedding Death Eaters like scales from a fish. He disappeared into the house, and Sirius and James had to keep the narrow corridor of clear air open. James out a Shield Charm over the doorway—it would stop some of the minor spells going in. Not that the Death Eaters were using minor spells. The two closest weren't given a chance to do anything though before Sirius sent a vicious set of spells their way.

"_Confringo! Locomotor mortis!_" He followed up with pointing his wand at the ugly stone gargoyle that hung from the edge of the roof. Or rather, its support struts. "_Reducto!_"

The supports exploded, and the stone creature hurtled down to land with sickening crunches onto the two Death Eaters.

"Padfoot, on your right!"

He looked around just in time to find cords flying through the air towards him. No time to dodge; he brought his wand up in a split second and sent an incendiary spell forwards. The ropes burned up instantly, giving Sirius time to get back to his feet. The Death Eater, now trapped between the two of them, appeared to panic. He tried to run past Sirius, who put his foot out and set him sprawling. As he fell, his hood and mask caught on a branch and were torn off. When he landed heavily on the ground was started scrabbling around for escape, his face was clearly visible. And his face was that of Sirius' younger brother.

Sirius, James noted, looked surprised, but not all that stunned. "Regulus?"

Still panicked, Regulus shot a stream of orange-red fire over Sirius' shoulder into the house.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

James caught the wand while Sirius advanced on his brother. "What the _fuck _are you doing here?"

Regulus held his hands up. "You - You wouldn't kill your own-"

Whether he would or not was irrelevant; a spell slammed into James from behind, throwing him forwards. It was quickly retaliated though, as Sirius threw a Stunner back at the Death Eater. He collapsed into the doorway of the house. The fire gave a huge roar and started moving towards him like it was alive. A second later, James realised why: it was alive. He could see snarling beasts and raging monsters in the flames.

"Oh shit. That's fiendfyre!"

Both he and Sirius looked around in utter incredulity that Regulus had managed to cast such a spell, but Regulus had disappeared, disapparated while their backs were turned. There was no chance of him controlling it now. If there ever had been to begin with.

"We have to get Mad-Eye!" James yelled, his face being prickled by heat and beginning to hurt now.

"Do you know how to stop it?" Sirius shouted back.

James knew exactly how _not_ to stop it, but not a single spell came to mind when he thought of how to put it out. But they couldn't leave Moody in there to burn, or Corrine Myles. Luckily, right at that moment, a Death Eater who _did _know how to control it suddenly appeared. She was only there to stop _her _compatriot being swallowed whole, but neither James nor Sirius were in any mood to be picky. Neither was Moody, who had apparently only waited for his chance; he suddenly came charging out with the unconscious Corrine Myles slung over his shoulder.

He threw her—bodily—to Kingsley. "Get her out of here!"

This was not what the Death Eater had in mind, and nor was her comrade supposed to be still lying there. She kicked him, hard, until he started stirring. Not fast enough. "Nott, move!" she shrieked.

James, Sirius and Moody were all close enough to hear her, and they all recognised her with the same thought: _That's the bitch who killed Sandy._

Suddenly under attack on three fronts, the Death Eater was forced to abandon the fiendfyre and defend herself quickly. She counter-attacked, blocked and dodged wherever she could, acting so far that hardly anything got through. However, when Arthur Weasley joined in, it was impossible for her to keep up the game. Unforgivables started flying thick and fast.

"_Crucio_!"

Arthur went down, suddenly screaming like his bones had been set alight. The woman took the opportunity to run for a clear space. In another ten seconds she would disapparate and be lost to them again. Moody and Prongs appeared in her path—Moody, she didn't bother with a spell; she simply kicked him square in the chest and continued on, raising her wand at James.

"_Avada-_"

"_Stupify!_"

Sirius' spell caught her in the middle of the back, and knocked her down in a darkened heap. Her hood was knocked askew, but no one had time to look at her face. The rest of the Death Eaters were hurriedly making their escape, melting back into the shadows. Three more were taken down before they were, and finally there were just a couple left, who seemed torn between leaving and trying to rescue Sandy's murderer.

"Leave her, idiot!"

"But the Dark Lord will-"

They both ducked as a stunner raced over their heads. "We must risk it!"

In another second, they were gone. The Order had won the day, with no casualties and only minor injuries. And more, they had her. Now fully recovered, Arthur was helped up by Sirius while James pointed his wand at her. "_Incarcerous._"

The others followed his lead, tying up the Death Eater prisoners tightly. James moved—gingerly, he still wasn't sure what damage she could do even bound—towards the female Death Eater. Her hood was crumpled, her mask knocked slightly aside. James could see a segment of pale cheek, but nothing else. His anger and bitterness lent him strength, and he grabbed the hood and mask, not caring if he scratched her skin or pulled hair, and wanting to do both. He couldn't help it—he wanted to cause the bitch pain. That was, of course, until he saw her face.

Helena. But how could it be Helena? How could she be here, how could she have been wearing a mask and how could she be- could she be- Helena?

"No…" he breathed. "No, no, no, no, no…"

"Prongs?"

James threw his arm back. "Don't come over here, Sirius."

"What?"

"I mean it, stay back."

Sirius' voice had taken on a suspicious edge to it now. "Why?"

"Don't ask, just don't-"

When Sirius moved toward him, James scrambled to his feet and put himself in the way, physically pushing his best friend back. It didn't work. There was a reason, after all, why Sirius had been the Beater, and James only the Seeker. He was pushed aside easily. Sirius didn't get further than a few steps anyway. But a few steps was enough, just enough, to see her face.

* * *

It was strange how many deeply unpleasant revelations one person could go through without it being the end of the world. Realising his parents were in serious dark-magic territory, being made aware (for instance) that his younger brother was a Death Eater—all had been shit, at the time, but Sirius had always survived with relatively little scathe. But this might be his limit. It still wasn't quite the end of the world. It was just that the bottom of it had fallen out. There suddenly wasn't anything beneath his feet. No certainty in anything. Everything was instantly...impossible.

He felt nothing but empty shock, coupled with a sensation of deep nausea. His stomach heaved, and for a moment he thought he might be sick, but then he looked at Helena again and the sense of unreality came back. Impossible.

"Padfoot?"

He had questions, of course he did, a million of them. Why was she here? _How _was she here? Was she here against her will? Was she even still breathing? Maybe it would better if-

"Sirius!" James said quietly, shaking his shoulder.

Physically incapable of a reply, Sirius didn't try to make one.

Gradually, the others drifted over, their gasps and proclamations of shock more audible than the sound of Sirius' heart being ripped cleanly in two. Arthur was the first to break the silence. "I thought... Didn't she saw she was out it?"

James nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, she did. Mad-Eye, is it possible Dumbledore-"

"No," Moody said harshly.

"Then...what do we do?"

"She can't go to Azkaban," Sirius said. "She can't."

Legally, she should go to Azkaban for the rest of her life. There weren't just suspicions; no more than two hours ago, all of them had heard her admit to the Imperius Curse, and she'd _performed t_he Cruciatus Curse in front of them all _on _Arthur, and...she had murdered Sandy. That was all of them. That was a three-step process to utter evil. And Helena was stood on the very top step about to jump into the shark-infested waters of immorality. The image that popped into his head was just inane and bizarre enough to make him laugh.

Until James punched him in the shoulder. "Padfoot! Shut up, and pick her up. We have to get back to HQ. Dumbledore can decide what to do then."

He seemed to be operating under the impression that as long as Sirius was numb to it all, he'd do anything without much protestation. Sirius was curious as to how long that was going to last. If he was a betting man, he'd wager about twenty more minutes. There was a fairly massive breakdown coming. They apparated to Castle Westmoreland (now reinforced with extra security spells), and James conjured a chair, which Sirius dumped her into. He bent to tie her wrists together, and as he did, her sleeve fell open. At the sight of the Dark Mark, emblazoned and laughing on her skin, all the rage, nausea and pain hit.

He shoved away so forcefully the chair rocked. "Oh fuck _this_!"

He got halfway to the door before James stopped him. "Padfoot, you can't just leave!"

"You just watch me."

"Look, mate, I know how you must feel, but-"

Sirius stopped, wondering if he'd ever truly felt fury until this moment. "Really? Do you? Because I don't see Lily in that chair!"

"Regardless, you can't simply disappear, what's Helena going to think when she wakes up?"

"Probably be wondering how to get back to Daddy Dearest!"

There was a faint popping noise, and Dumbledore materialised. He looked generally concerned. Until he spotted Helena, and then general concern morphed into specific worry. "Ah."

"Fuck this _sideways_," Sirius burst out.

This time, he got to the door. "I would prefer you stay, Sirius," Dumbledore said.

"Why?"

"Because you should. I've asked Lily, Remus and Peter to join us too?"

"Why?"

"Because both you and Helena need your friends around you. Especially now. This is not going to be pleasant."

It wasn't pleasant from the first second. When Pete arrived, the fact that Helena was tied up was enough to scare him into scuttling over to James and Sirius. Normally it was a bit amusing, but now it was simply disgusting to both of them. Lily, when she came in by floo, gasped and ran immediately to her friend.

"Helena? Why on earth is she tied up?" she demanded angrily.

James stopped her on the point of severing the ropes that held Helena's wrists together. "Don't, love."

"What? Why not?" She looked between her husband's ashen face and Sirius' devastatedly angry one, her own eyebrows coming together. "What's going on?"

"I- We had to stop them from killing this witch, and she was- And then the Death Eaters attacked and-"

Lily took his face between his hands, her green eyes now almost as full of worry for her husband as for Helena. "James. Just tell me why Helena's tied up."

"Because she's a Death Eater," Sirius said flatly, when Prongs' mouth kept opening and closing pointlessly. Lily made no sign of shock or surprise. She did look dismayed, but a stone-cold suspicion in the pit of his stomach told him why. "You already knew. Bloody hell, Lily!"

"I- I knew she had the Dark Mark, but she swore to me she'd tell you, Padfoot, she told me she was out!"

"That," Dumbledore said quietly, "seems to have been a common theme."

Remus was the last to arrive, and he did look shocked, but quietly so. He clasped Sirius' shoulder briefly and then stood next to him. The show of solidarity went totally unappreciated.

"Lily, did you bring what I asked for?" Dumbledore asked.

She nodded and held out a small glass bottle. "Veritaserum."

"Thank you." He took it from her and gently tilted Helena's head back, opening her mouth. "_Envervate_."

When Helena opened her eyes, everyone took a step back. They were pure crimson. But not the same dead, flat colour as Voldemort's—they glittered with malicious life. Dumbledore didn't have to request silence; Sirius' tongue seems to have cemented itself to the roof of his mouth, even though he wanted to be screaming and shouting and generally making the entire world feel as terrible as he did.

"Do you know where you are?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

That red gaze flickered around the great hall. "No."

_No? _How could she not know? Unless Lily had brewed the potion incorrectly—but she looked as confused as the rest of them. Dumbledore, however, looked oddly satisfied. Like a theory had just been proven correct.

"Who are you?"

"I am unnamed." A brief smirk ghosted across her lips. "You may call me…Lady V."

It would have been entirely ridiculous, hilariously funny, if it hadn't been so chillingly fitting. "Why did you attack Corrine Myles?"

"I was ordered to."

"By whom?"

"My father."

"How long have you followed his orders?"

"Since I first came into being."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Eight weeks. The night Helena first rejected my father. The night she was blessed by him."

The feeling of wanting to be sick had all but faded completely now; his whole being was rapt with attention and curiosity. Everything depended on listening to her. These answers didn't make sense—but they were still answers. They were still enabling him to draw a thin trickle of air into his lungs. Dumbledore was taking his bloody time with the questions though. If it was Sirius he would be constantly shouting them.

"Besides the murder of the auror Sandra Shore, are responsible for the death of anyone else?"

"No."

"Have you tortured anyone else?"

"A muggle. It was fun."

"Who?"

"A barmaid."

_Oh God_.

Lily was the next to get it. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes flew to him, and she shook her head. "No, no, no, no… Helena, you _couldn't_."

"Helena did not," Lady V said, hearing her. "She could do no more than cast a simple Imperius Curse. Pathetic," she added, her lip curling. "Helena would never do such a thing."

At this point, Dumbledore straightened fully, and regarded them all. Seeing expressions ranging from confusion to fear, he explained. "She's telling the truth. She isn't doing these things."

"But we know she is!" Sirius protested.

"No, she isn't. The other one is."

There was a silence, and when Sirius spoke again, there was a great tension in his voice. Dumbledore's next sentence had better make sense, or there would be bloodshed. "What do you mean, 'the other one'? There aren't two of her!"

"I'm afraid there are. Helena—with the aid of Voldemort's interference and the Dark Mark—has developed a split personality. Helena herself, or the one we all know, is out, away from the Death Eaters and everything else. It appears when she's asleep—sometimes when she's awake too, another side of her personality wakes up, and then dominates for a time."

The implications of Dumbledore's words began to sink in, and a knot of hope formed in his chest. With a lump in his throat, and strangely hot eyes, he asked, "So- So she isn't doing it of her own free will? She literally has no choice?"

"None at all."

He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled not to literally cry with relief. "Alright. Next question: how do we evict Lady V out of her?"

"Evict her?" James asked, frowning. "Is that possible?"

"I want that _bitch_ out of the woman I love!"

"It's not a case of outright removing her," Dumbledore said. "The personalities have to be integrated. They separated presumably because Helena couldn't bear the idea that she herself could do the things she was required to. She needs to come to terms with the fact that she did, and that part of her—not a wholly separate person—enjoyed doing so."

"No," Sirius said instantly. "No. She wouldn't."

"The facts are-"

"She ripped Maggie's tongue out! She gouged her eyes from her skull and cut all her fingers off!" he roared. "Why would_ Helena_, even a tiny part of her, want to do that?"

The reply was only murmured, but Sirius felt them slide through his flesh like broken glass. "She coveted what was mine."

Horrorstruck, he turned to face those poisonous eyes and toxic words. "What?"

"She dared to touch my property. She had to be punished."

No one tried to stop him when, unable to bear any more, Sirius' self-control snapped, and he disapparated. Her friends did not look away from the monster wearing Helena's skin, and Dumbledore only sighed, light blue eyes full of sorrow. "This will not be done easily, and it will not be done quickly."

* * *

**A/N: Seems like Sirius is always running away lately, I know, but I think I would too. Review please!**


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Here's chapter 38.  
**

**Chapter Thirty Eight**

"How will it be done at all?" James asked. "I mean, we have to get to Helena to tell her she needs to accept-" He was not Sirius, and only her friend, but even so his voice failed him there; the idea was too vile.

But Remus, who knew what it was like to have a monster living inside you, had no trouble completing the sentence, although his expression was set and grim. "Accept that Lady V is a representation of her darkest desires. James is right, Dumbledore. We need to get Helena out before we can even start."

"How do we do that? Won't she just … wake up eventually?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but once again he was stopped by Lady V answering. "She'll never wake again."

"Why not?" Lily asked, refusing to show any fear or discomfort and reminding James of all the reasons he loved her.

"She's no reason to."

"Why not?"

"Her bright star no longer shines on her. The light shuns her. She's subsumed into the darkness. Into me."

"Bright star," Peter whispered from James' side.

"Pete? That mean something to you?"

Peter seemed unable to speak while locked in the scarlet gaze of Lady V, so James physically broke the connection, putting himself in Pete's line of vision. "Pete! What does that mean, 'bright star'?"

Wormtail swallowed, his watery eyes fearful. "Well, the- the brightest star in the sky is the Dog Star. Otherwise known as-"

"Sirius," Lily finished.

Wormtail nodded. "Exactly."

A lazy laugh filled the air. It made the bats clustered on the beams squeal in distress, made every hair on James' body stand to attention. Lady V thought she'd won. "And good luck getting him back."

"_Solemnio_," Dumbledore said, pointing his wand at Lady V. She immediately lapsed into slumber. He turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, I believe the dungeon is still in working order?"

"Yes, it should be."

"Excellent, please take Helena there and secure her. Arthur, if you would accompany Minerva?"

Together, the two of them floated Helena from the room, leaving Dumbledore with James, Lily, Remus, Peter and Moody.

"Alastor, could you draft an owl to Octavia Fantaine? Let her know that Helena will be absent from work a few weeks—perhaps some new information about her parents' deaths, or needing a healers' expertise? It's pointless expecting her to believe it, of course, but it will give her something to distribute and let Voldemort know that Helena is now sheltered by the Order. That may protect her for a little while."

"Ministry wouldn't hire Junior Healers."

"Then whatever excuse you can think of. And then, can you please work on tracking down Sirius?"

When Moody was gone, Dumbledore turned to the rest of them.

"He could be in a hundred places," Peter said, too quickly. "It could take weeks to search thoroughly, Professor."

"Then I suggest you work at finding him quickly. Mr Potter, have you any idea where he might be, where he might go?"

"Wormtail's right, Dumbledore," James said. "When Sirius decides to run … he doesn't really think about where he's going. Which is going to put him in as much danger as Helena is."

"And knowing Sirius, if Death Eaters do catch him, he'll probably try and slaughter them all singlehandedly," Remus added.

"He's hurting," Lily said. "He'd probably go wherever he felt comfortable, where he could either draw comfort or just wallow in misery."

"Home?"

"Voldemort is aware of its location," Dumbledore put in.

"Shit."

"I'll go," James said immediately.

"Well I'm coming with you," Lily said immediately.

"No. No, Lily, stay here."

"I am not about to let you wander into an ambush by yourself, James!"

"Well I'm not about to let you take our unborn child into one either!"

"Oh. Good point."

James rolled his eyes. Alright, his experience of pregnant women wasn't extensive, but he was pretty sure no one else managed to forget the bump in front of them except Lily. But then, no one could really be that brilliant all of the time without a few blind spots. He gestured to Pete. "Come on, Wormtail, you're coming with me."

"Am I?" Wormtail asked, obviously alarmed by the prospect.

James didn't give him much wiggle-room; he grabbed him by the arm and practically did a Side-Along with him just in tow. They landed in the shadows by the side of Helena's house. The door was still standing. That was a good sign. He hoped.

"Come on."

"But what if there are Death Eaters?" Wormtail asked urgently.

"That's what your wand's for, Pete!"

When they got to the door, he pressed his palm gently against it, and it swung open soundlessly. "_Lumos_."

There didn't seem to be anyone around, and the only noise came from the alarming amount that Pete was making. James turned around and glared at him when he managed to know a vase off the hall table, which while it didn't smash, still managed to make a loud bang. But it wasn't answered by anything, either by Sirius shouting for them to fuck off or by Death Eaters hurling curses at them.

"I don't think there's anyone here."

"Oh good. Can we go then?"

"It is not _good_; if Padfoot isn't here then where the hell is he? We better check each room anyway. Come on. You take the first floor, I'll look down here. _Now_, Wormtail."

Visibly swallowing, Pete did as ordered, and crept silently up the stairs. James checked the library. the kitchen and the garden, but all were Sirius-free. Then he went upstairs and checked the second floor, but that was the same.

"Anything?" he called to Peter.

"Nothing. He's not here. I found some … interesting stains on the wall though."

"Blood?"

"Um, no. I - I think it's something else."

"Something else like what?"

Wormtail reappeared. "Trust me, Prongs, you don't want to know."

"Oh. Come on, we have to get back to HQ."

Just before they disapparated, James headed to the cupboard under the stairs. There wasn't enough room to swing a cat, but there was room for a broomstick; Sirius's.

"What's that for?"

"Locator spell. We've got to find him somehow, Pete."

The location spell was of Lily's casting; of all of them, she seemed to be the most clearheaded about the situation. Even though arguably, she had the strongest emotional connection to Helena—apart from Sirius. James was incredibly thankful for it though. While Lily prepared the scrying potion that would aid them, he went down to the dungeons. It was just McGonagall down here now, Arthur having been sent home. He had a job to report to in the morning, after all.

"Professor?"

McGonagall looked wearily up from Helena, who still slept. "It's been almost a year since I was your professor, Mr Potter. You call Albus by his name."

"I know, but …"

"But I inspired too much terror in you while you were at Hogwarts, is that it?" she smiled wryly.

James smiled back and settled back against the wall. "Something like that."

He'd meant it as a joke, but she stopped smiling. "I knew what was waiting for you."

James shook his head swiftly. "Professor, you were the best teacher I ever had, the best. Best most of us had, actually. And if you inspired terror, so what? Most of us—especially us—were cocky little bastards who needed to be taught a lesson in respect. A little trepidation never did any harm. And it was probably the best thing you could have done."

"How touching." They both jumped; Lady V had woken up at some point during their conversation and was now regarding them with hatred and contempt. "I think I'm tearing up," she said.

"Shut up."

"Come in here and make me, blood-traitor." When neither of them made a move, she smirked. "Oh, not as idiotic as you look then. Put your wand down, old woman," she snarled at McGonagall. "You've taken mine, I cannot disapparate—what can I do but wait?"

Knowing he was going to regret it, James asked, "Wait for what?"

"Why, a saviour, one way or the other. Start praying that it's Helena's saviour, before mine arrives. Because if not, you'll all be torn apart. Except your pretty little mudblood," she added, conversationally. "Her, I think I'll feed to our dear Nagini."

McGonagall grabbed James' forearm to stop him moving, because his self-control had frayed right through, and the atmosphere was suddenly very tense. "Don't you _dare _talk about her like that."

"No, perhaps you're right," Lady V mused. "She's not really good enough for even the lowest serpent."

As if on cue, Lily's footsteps descended down the steps to the dungeons. Lady V smirked. "Speak of the pond scum …"

"Fuck off," Lily recommended pleasantly. "Potion's ready. It'll be more accurate if it's left to brew for a bit, but -"

"I really don't think we need to let it brew," James said, quickly taking her hand and pulling her form the dungeons.

Lady V's laughter followed them—until McGonagall's calm, "_Silencio" _put an end to it.

"Still not Helena then," Lily commented.

"No. How accurate is this spell going to be?"

"It should be accurate to within twenty miles. There might be some variation and I imagine it will take more than one of you to make a definitive search and track him down."

Twenty miles wasn't brilliant, but it was better than what they'd had before. When they reached the great hall, the cauldron Lily had set up was bubbling away, and on the table there was a map of Britain. Apparently they were assuming he hadn't disapparated out of the country. The potion would act as a dipping solution for the scrying crystal, helping to make it more accurate.

Lily had a simple amethyst on a silver chain, which she submerged for a minute in the emerald green potion, then took it out and held it, perfectly still, over the map. "I've made the potion with a few twigs from Padfoot's broom," she said, "so this should work. _Trouven absenta._"

The amethyst glowed, and then began swirling around in ever-faster circles, leading Lily's hand over the map. It left Scotland, where they were, and headed south. Then south-east. Suddenly it shot down, the point of it slamming into the map, slap-bang in the middle of London.

"But we've been to Kensington Gardens."

"Maybe he's somewhere else in London."

"Brilliant. And how many people live in London?"

"Dunno. Four and a half million, ish?"

"Fabulous."

"Okay, let's be logical about this," Moony said. "We know he isn't at home. Where else in London might he go, bearing in mind what's going on at the moment."

"King's Cross?" Peter suggested. "Like Lily said, he might go where's comforting … andit's the gateway to Hogwarts."

"Good idea."

"I'll check it out."

It was odd, Wormtail offering to go anywhere by himself, but no one paid much heed to it. After he was gone, they carried on brainstorming. "What was the name of that pub, where Hel- Lady V attacked Maggie, the barmaid?"

"Three Bells."

"We'll look there too. There's a good chance he feels guilty, for whatever reason, so he might've gone there."

"Alright, second place I think we should check is St Mungo's. If Helena has a disease in his head, then he might be looking for a cure. Everyone got that?"

They separated, and spent the rest of the night hunting for Sirius throughout London. They all met with little success, and it was a cold and bitter dawn when they made it back to Westmoreland Castle, without any clearer an idea of where Sirius might be. The urge to find him was great, but they also needed to eat and sleep themselves at some point. Sirius—and Helena—would have to wait.

It did not stop Prongs from feeling incredibly guilty though. "I feel like I've failed both of them," he confessed to Lily when they were safe at home.

"You can't think like that, love. You looked for Sirius, we've done what we can for Helena, there's nothing more than making yourself starved and sleep-deprieved will do to help."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Sit down, I'll make some breakfast."

She bustled around the kitchen, shoving toast under the grill and scrambling some eggs in a saucepan. James couldn't take his eyes from her—God, if anything ever happened to her! To the baby, either—he'd just be destroyed. It was almost enough to make him want to take them both away from this dangerous world, go somewhere where his family would be safe. He could learn to live as a muggle, he knew he could. And what was he doing, letting his pregnant wife endanger herself on a regular basis-

"James?"

"What?"

"You're staring at me …"

"Sorry. I was just thinking …"

Lily brought the scrambled eggs on toast over. "What were you thinking?"

"That we're crazy. That _I'm _crazy."

"Ah," she said, cutting into her food. "I wondered when our thoughts would converge on that."

"You've thought about it too?"

"About running away? Of course I have. James, you and the baby are the most important things in the world to me. There are some days when I think I could abandon everything else."

"So why haven't you ever said anything?"

"Because then I remember what that entails._ Who _it entails abandoning."

James let out a heavy sigh. "Well, Helena's an evil bitch queen, and Padfoot's run off somewhere … there's a good argument for stating we've been abandoned ourselves."

Lily smiled. "And I remember what kind of parents I want us to be. It's the kind that know when to fight for a good future for their child, not the kind that run away from the bad one."

"So: sticking with it then?"

"Sticking with it."

"I love you, Mrs Potter."

She grinned. "And I love you. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

* * *

It was three days before any note or word arrived from Sirius, and then it was an untidy, hurried scrawl. _Don't worry about me. I'm looking for a cure. Look after Helena._

"He's looking for a cure? But there isn't a cure."

"He must be in denial about it."

"Well, we can't wait weeks or months for him to come to his senses," Lily said. "I don't want to be around Lady V for that long."

James frowned at her. "What's she said to you?"

"Not much to be honest—she still just hisses at me occasionally. And the glaring, of course," Lily replied.

She'd been spending at least half of every evening at Castle Westmoreland, sat in the dungeons with a book and a thermos, watching Lady V. Sometimes she paced, but mostly she sat cross-legged in the corner of her cell and meditated. Lily was sure her meditations were all very unpleasant, but she didn't share them, and Lily didn't really want to ask. The Marauders were searching still for the missing piece of their quartet; the scrying crystal still put him somewhere in London, so they scoured as much of the metropolis as they could each night, postcode by postcode. It wasn't a very efficient way of searching, three of them against a city of considerable millions, but it was all they had.

James, for reasons he couldn't explain to her, couldn't leave the idea of St Mungo's alone. He just seemed sure that that was where Padfoot would go in search of a cure, desperate though it was. Lily felt compassion for everyone involved. It was running James ragged, Remus ragged_er_, and made Wormtail so jumpy he twitched every time anyone spoke to him. She felt most sorrow for Helena and Sirius though. They were meant to be together, she knew that entirely, but at the same time it seemed the fates intended them to be separate. Each time they took a step forwards, they were immediately set back. Now there was the spectre between them, the dark phantom of Lady V. She would taint everything if the bond between them cracked even slightly. There had to be something Lily could do to help. There had to be some common ground that they would both find their thoughts and feelings to be in harmony, and unshakable. There had to be-

"Ow!" she muttered, as the baby aimed a particularly hark kick at her kidney. But it had the desired effect. There was something they could share. Some_one_ they were united in their desire to protect and care for. Smiling, Lily smoothed a hand over her bump. "You, my boy, are a genius."

"Why is our daughter a genius?" James asked, through a yawn.

"I'll tell you later. You look exhausted, love."

"Feel it. But I've got a good feeling about finding him tonight."

"You said that last night."

Dumbledore had now officially pulled the Order off finding Sirius. He had a point; Voldemort would not stop his machinations just because Lady V was missing, and they did not have the resources to hunt down both Death Eaters and a wayward one of their own. But the Marauders had refused to give up. James, Lily (honourary member), Remus and Peter still looked for Padfoot in between their day jobs and Order duties. Sirius had only been missing a few days, but Lily was right; it was exhausting. But tonight was the night, he was sure it was. He was going to Richmond Park, and he was going to wait. There were deer around, so he'd be able to blend in easily and keep an eye on St Mungo's without any muggles being any the wiser. The only real challenge was going to be avoiding the desire to lie down and fall asleep in the grass.

He arrived just after midnight, and transformed, then took shelter in the shadow of some trees. Most of the herd were the other end of the park, and James settled in to wait. His eyesight was better than his human eyes were at night, so it was no problem picking out details. Including the four-legged black form half a mile away. Heart hammering inside his chest, Prongs cantered across the park.

Sirius could hardly miss him—not with his sense of smell and hearing. He stopped and transformed. James did the same, and the two of them stood uncertainly for a moment. Then James spoke. "You alright, mate?"

Sirius didn't look brilliant; his hair needed a wash and there were dark circles under his eyes. He nodded once. "You?"

"Been better."

"Is … is Hel- I mean she's-"

"Helena's not fine, Padfoot, but then you knew he wasn't before you took off. But she can be, if you help her. She's given up, without you, totally. We need you to come back."

Sirius took a deep breath, then moved past James and started walking again, his hands deep in his pockets. "I can't."

"You what?" James asked, quite certain he had misheard.

"I can't do it."

"What do you mean you can't?" James persisted, following Sirius and pulling him around. "What are you, afraid?"

"Honestly? Yeah. I'm bloody terrified. Wouldn't you be?"

"Yes. But I'd also be back there, fighting tooth and nail to save her. Why the hell aren't you?"

"You're assuming there's anything _to _save. She's been completely swallowed by that thing, Prongs, and look at it, all Lady V wants to do is get back to You-Know-Who. And I refuse to believe that Helena would enjoy doing that to someone. Lady V might, but Helena? No way. And if she did do it, then there's nothing in there worth loving."

"I can't believe you'd be so selfish," James breathed. Who was this coward? "Not a week ago you wanted to marry her!"

"I still do!" Sirius yelled. "Merlin's beard, James, d'you think I'm just running away?"

"That's what it bloody looks like!"

"You idiot, I left to get my head straight. That was a complete mind-fuck for me!"

"So what are you doing now?" James asked, calming down a bit.

"Trying to find a way to get Lady V out of Helena, to evict her, like I said."

"Dumbledore said it wasn't that easy. He said-"

"Dumbledore is not the font of all knowledge, even if he thinks he is."

"I see,' James said heavily.

"What?"

"You're still running away."

"How am I?"

"You won't face the truth! This isn't something that the right spell or potion will fix, Padfoot, it's going to take time and effort, and it's going to be tough. Now you need to face that and come back with him, otherwise you'll be right, and there won't be anything left of Helena, because she'll have given up completely."

"Stop saying that like she'll die!"

"She will, unless you help her!"

"I am helping her!"

Apparently having had enough of the argument, Sirius transformed and began running off. There was no way in the world James was going to let that happen, so he changed shape too and galloped after him. It was a strain, but eventually prey caught predator, darting in front of him. Sirius put his ears back and snarled, black gums lifting away from razor-sharp teeth. Prongs refused to move, and put his head down, giving Padfoot a face full of antler. When he darted to the side, the antlers followed him. Sirius decided to make a running leap for it. James brought his head up at exactly the wrong moment though, and hit Sirius in the chest with the points of his antlers. Yelping and whining, the great black dog was thrown aside.

James immediately prepared to transform and apologise, but Sirius found his own resolution to the conflict. Scrambling back onto all four paws, he lunged for the stag, fastening his teeth into James' foreleg. The bite broke skin and went deep into muscle. Sirius only stayed latched on long enough to make sure he'd made pursuit impossible, and then loped off, leaving his best friend bleeding.

He was still bleeding when he transformed back, pulling his want out of his pocket. "Well, at least I'm right-handed …" he conjured bandages and wrapped them around his forearm. Then he disapparated back to HQ.

Everyone appeared to be pacing, and Remus was the first to notice him appear. "I take it it didn't go well. Did you find him?"

James held up his injured arm. "Oh, I found him."

Lily's green eyes widened, and she unwrapped the bandages carefully. There was no way she—or anyone—wouldn't recognise teeth marks, so she quickly worked on healing him before anyone else noticed. "I can't believe he'd attack you."

"Well I can't believe he'd run away, but I was just proven wrong," was the grim reply.

"I can understand why he'd feel unable to cope," Lily murmured.

"I can't. If he loves her-"

"Oh, sweetheart, don't be dense. He's running _because _he loves her."

All the males in the room looked at her quizzically. "Okay, you're going to have to explain that one to me."

"Look, at first he was scared of her (and let's face it, we all are), and then he was disgusted at the things she's done, and then Dumbledore's there saying it's all part of Helena—and probably he would have come back even then, but now we've just made it worse again."

"How have we made it worse?"

"We've told him he's Helena's only hope of survival."

"But he _is _Helena's only hope of survival!"

"Yes, but surely you can see what an enormous burden that is! Especially when he doesn't have enough faith in himself to believe that he can—and let's face it, Helena's given him every indication that he can't."

James shook his head. "Sorry, but it sounded like you just said _Padfoot _doesn't have enough confidence."

"Look, Helena's lied to him. She's concealed everything, including how terrified she's been for weeks. To Sirius, that's like saying his love isn't strong enough to support her. Now we're asking it to _save _her. Padfoot can be the most arrogant bugger in the world in every other instance, but there's no one anywhere who isn't a fool when it comes to love."

Her speech done, Lily closed her lips, leaving her husband and friends staring at her.

"So what do we do?" Peter asked.

"We wait. He'll come back."

"I'm not sure about that," James said. "He said that Helena did that, then there was nothing worth loving."

"Saying that and believing it are two different things. He'll come back, and until then we guard her, and we make sure that Helena knows we're here for her, all of us. So, on that note: I'm going back down there."

She'd brought with her a book and a flask of tea, as normal, and took them down to the dungeon with her. She lit candles to make it as comfy and cosy as possible—although it didn't make even a marginal difference—and settled in. Lady V's eyes were open this time, and just as red as ever, regarding Lily coldly.

"Why do you keep coming, mudblood?" the voice hissed.

"Not for you," Lily snapped back.

Lady V laughed. "I thought she needed to learn—I _am _her."

"You might represent an element of her, but you are _not _my best friend."

"She's dead."

"No."

"I'm all that's left, and shall I tell you something, mudblood?"

"I'm not listening to anything you have to say."

"When I get out of here, I'm going to enjoy killing you. But first, I'm going to slaughter that blood-traitor of yours, and then I'm going to cut open your belly, and _crush_ that half-breed thing inside you. Then I'll kill you."

Scarlet eyes gleamed in the dark.

"Won't that be fun?"

If she had been trying to find Lily's soft spot, her tender point, she had found it. Lily tried to maintain her dignity, as she trembled and left the dungeon, but both she and Lady V full-well knew the truth. She was fleeing. She was running scared.

* * *

Maybe this was the real reason he'd never wanted to fall in love. Not because birds were too much hassle. Just because it hurt too fucking much when it all went wrong. Looking with a pessimistic eye, their entire relationship had been them hiding things from each other—his animagi ability, her parentage, their feelings for each other, and now _Unforgivables_? Even if she was sorry, there couldn't be enough sorry in the entire world for that. Except maybe the amount of sorry in her eyes and an offering to be whatever he wanted her to be, if he'd only forgive , they were both truly fucked up examples of human beings.

He forgave her. Of _course _he forgave her. He had instantly, the moment it had all come out. None of this was Helena's fault; even if Lady V turned up because Helena had forced part of herself away, then how could that have been anything but the right thing to do? She'd rejected it because it was horrific, vile. Forget whatever Dumbledore had said about needing a merging of the personalities, Sirius was still sure he'd been right. Lady V was a foreign invader in Helena's mind and body, and he was determined to get her out. But Prongs' words wouldn't stop reverberating around his head. _She's given up. _Which made no sense whatsoever. She couldn't give up. She was Helena, no matter what she was doing, however stupid or idiotic, she didn't give up. Ever.

But he hadn't ever really abandoned her before. Once more, he remembered the open, naked vulnerability in her eyes. He could have done anything to her. Anything at all. And she would just have taken it. Any self-respect, any dignity … gone. God, he felt like a monster. He _was _a monster. And the worst part was he'd let another monster take Helena.

Well, bugger that for a bunch of bats.

Twenty minutes later, he was down in the dungeons of Westmoreland Castle. It was the middle of the night, or at least very early in the morning, and the castle had been almost deserted. He'd crept down in the the shadows, and now stood in more of them. Like she'd been waiting, Lady V was on her feet, in the very centre of her cell.

"So. You've come at last. I _am _disappointed. You would have made a most suitable stud for future generations."

He ignored that, and said instead, "You can control fiendfyre."

"Your point?"

"How?"

"Magic is not difficult to control for the truly powerful. Much like people," she added with a smirk.

"Funny. Looks to me like you're the one locked up and under our control."

"Appearances can be deceptive. I had convinced you that I did not exist, had I not? And here I am. I wanted your fear, and your friends cower before me. I wanted you here, and in front of me your stand. And soon you're going to let me out."

"Never."

She laughed. "Then why have you come, blood-traitor?"

"For Helena."

"_I _am all that is left of her."

"I don't believe that."

A hand came out, flicked away his faith with a dismissive gesture. "Believe what you will, for now. I will enjoy forcing you to accept the truth later."

"There's one branch of magic you can't control," he said abruptly.

"I beg to differ."

"It's completely unknown to you, in fact."

"All magic is known to me. My father has-"

"And even if you did know it," Sirius interrupted, "you'd run scared. You wouldn't dare touch it."

"I would-"

"And neither would your father. It's too hot, too bright and too powerful. It'd burn your eyes out if you even try to look at it," he said, moving forwards a step or two.

Lady V did the same, her red eyes narrow and piercing. "What is it?"

"It belongs to me. I'm the only one in the world it will tame for, the only one in the world it will _love_."

"Tell me!"

Sirius stepped up to the bars. Lady V's hands shot through, nails digging into his skin and eyes boring into his. She had no wand, but he could feel her will bearing down on him. Ineffectually; he was going to tell her anyway.

"_Hellfire_."

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

**A/N: I can only apologise for the amount of time this has taken me. Call it a hiberation for the Harry Potter muses. Thank you to Classic Cowboy for the beta :)  
**

**Chapter Thirty Nine**

The effect was instantaneous; Lady V's crimson eyes widened, then rolled back. Her legs folded beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor of her cell, unconscious.

Sirius' heart felt like it was jumping around inside his chest, but reason restrained his limbs from unlocking the door and letting her out. It still might not be her. And if it was, he didn't have a clue what to do next. The ultimate aim had been getting rid of Lady V, he hadn't allowed himself to think any further. And now that had been achieved—if he wanted to, he could go back to running and let the others deal with helping Helena conquer this … disease once and for all. He got to the door before two things stopped him. One: the sure knowledge that if, having abandoned her now, he came back later, he'd get only one thing from Helena. Which would be a punch in the face. And two: … _in sickness and in health_—this definitely counted as sickness. And if they ever did marry, those words would be part of the vow they would make to each other, he thought, pulling the ring out of his pocket and looking at it. Then Sirius decided that he didn't need the circle of metal of the paper certificate. He'd make the vow here, now. She was sick, so he would care for her. It was that simple.

So that was why, when Helena opened her wonderfully blue eyes, the first person she saw was the man who loved her.

* * *

Her bed was cold. And a bit wet. And more than a bit hard. And felt a lot like stone, in fact. When she opened her eyes, she met Sirius' concerned grey ones. Which were upside down. And which were peering at her through … bars.

"Hellfire?"

"Padfoot, why am I …" she trailed off. She _had _meant to ask 'Why am I on the floor?', but it wasn't just a floor, it was the floor of a cell. A cell in the apparent dungeons of Westmoreland Castle, she guessed. In mute shock and incomprehension, she stared up at Sirius for an answer.

He only breathed a long, long sigh of relief. Why he would be relieved- "Exceptionally long story. Do you remember any of it?"

"What am I supposed to be remembering?"

"The last week or so."

"I've been in a cell for a _week_? Who locked me up?"

"Well … we did."

The dumbness came back.

"We'll get you out though, as soon as possible. Just let me get Dumbledore. I'll be back, Hellfire. Don't go anywhere."

"How could I?" she called after him.

She clambered to her feet slowly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. It was only after she'd straightened that she realised what she was wearing. Black robes that she was pretty sure she didn't own, but that were tailored perfectly to her figure. They also had a hood. And her wand was missing. Quickly checking Sirius wasn't coming back, she rolled her sleeve up and looked at the Dark Mark. It was quiescent, glowering quietly on her skin. But it made sense that it was the source of her current predicament—had she been put under a spell? Drunk a potion? God, had she done something terrible?

Footsteps approached, quiet and calm, unaccompanied. Dumbledore came in, his light blue eyes missing their usual twinkle.

"Did I kill someone?" Helena asked.

"Yes."

Hearing the answer she dreaded, Helena set her jaw and forced the next word out. "Who?"

It couldn't have been James, or Remus or Pete, Sirius would never have been able to talk to her, _look _at her if she had, but Lily- God, not Lily, not Lily and the baby, it couldn't have been-

"Sandra Shore. The auror."

It was a bizarre relief to hear, but then immediately a puzzle again. "But she died in Azkaban, when the Death Eaters attacked. You're telling me I was _there_?"

"Unfortunately."

"Was I under the Imperius Curse?"

"No," he replied heavily. "It's rather worse than that, Helena."

"I don't understand."

"I know. Come upstairs, and I will explain it to you. Your friends are eager to see you."

"Dumbledore, if I've killed someone then I can't go and socialise!" she cried. "I-I don't know how or why—I can't see people, whether they're my friends or anyone else! If the Dark Lord's controlling me then they're all in danger!"

"You are not a danger to them. And in any case that is why your wand has been removed. You need to see them, Helena. You need to see that you are not a pariah to them."

With that, he removed his wand and pointed it at the lock of the cell; it opened and Helena stepped out hesitantly. "Why-"

"Everything will be explained to you, Helena, I give you my word."

"When?"

"Presently."

She still felt incredibly nervous when she followed him into the hall. It was like a horrible repetition of the Sorting Ceremony, everyone staring at her, and she was filled with inward trembling. It seemed like she needn't have worried through. James and Lily both met her with tight hugs, and Remus clasped her hands—even McGonagall patted her on the shoulder. The only one who didn't touch her was Pete, who only smiled nervously.

"It-it's really nice to see you, Helena. Um- Yeah, really good. But I've got to go, really sorry. Something at my mum's I need to take a look at. I'll see you later, everyone!"

He practically ran to the fireplace, and flooed away. No one was surprised or interested in his fear. It was clear they were all as uncertain as she was though, all going a bit too far to make her feel welcome. The only person who wasn't too cheerful was Sirius. He stood looking grim and determined, waiting for the truth to come out. Needing security and comfort, she went to him, and he wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"It's going to be alright, Helena," he breathed in her ear. "I promise. I'm here, and I'll never leave you again."

Remembering in a sudden rush the last time she had seen him (as far as she knew), and the most painful—in every sense—sex of her life, Helena found tears springing to her eyes, and she clung to him tightly. After another moment or two, she felt brave enough to look back at Dumbledore.

"Now will you tell me?"

She was silent as it was all explained, laid out in horrifying detail. Strangely, it wasn't difficult to believe Lady V had sprung out of her own desires. She remembered what being around Voldemort was like, how darkly thrilling it was, how intoxicating the sense of power had been. The idea that, when she had cut it off, part of her wasn't prepared to let it go, made complete sense. And she was fierce, possessive even, over her relationship with Sirius. He was _hers_. That, coupled with the freedom that total amorality brought, probably would be enough to justify attacking an innocent woman in so savage a way.

But those desires and demons were absent from her now. She felt as much revulsion towards them as her friends did. They weren't part of her, they were a part of _her_. So she was with Sirius.

"How the hell do I get her out?"

"It isn't that simple, my dear," McGonagall said. "Unfortunately there's no potion or spell that will help here."

"Then what will?" Helena asked desperately.

"Time. And help."

"Whose help?"

"Mine," Sirius said immediately, squeezing her hand, which he had yet to let go of. "However long it takes."

"That's noble, Padfoot, but you're not anywhere near qualified to deal with psychological problems like Helena's," Lily said. "There are muggle psychologists who would, but we can hardly get them involved. I've never heard of this kind of thing happening with witches or wizards."

"We don't necessarily need to use muggles, and we can't assume my case is applicable to normal multiple personality disorder anyway," Helena said, focusing on the problem. She felt better when she could apply useful knowledge to problems. "It's me we need to work on, not her. We need to go carefully through every instance where I buried what I felt or wanted to do in fear. Doing that obviously built up so high that it needed to find another point of release. If I force myself to accept that everything she is just already in me—or the potential for it is—then it should remove the need for another personality."

"Being away from You-Know-Who should help too," Lily said. "That thing on your arm isn't just a summoning device, it's a powerful bit of magic. It could very well be exacerbating the problem."

"So it's conceivable that Voldemort shaped Lady V," Helena nodded. "I told him I'd leave or he'd kill me … I suppose helping to create another me does circumvent that particular problem."

"Ordinarily I'd just suggest getting that tattoo removed, but somehow I don't think that would work."

"Probably not. But removing you somewhere far away from him could well weaken the hold and make it easier to reconcile you and Lady V. Especially if he doesn't know where to find you," James said.

"I imagine he'll still try to summon me though," Helena said, shuddering at the memory of that pain. "And when I resist it, that's when Lady V comes out."

"Which is when I stop her, from here on out," Sirius put in, his tone brooking no refusal.

She tried anyway. "Too dangerous. From what you've told me she's easily more powerful than you, maybe even as powerful as Voldemort is."

"I'm not exactly a weakling myself, and she won't have a wand."

"What if she takes yours?"

"I won't let her."

"Sirius, I can't let you risk your safety like this, I love you too much to-"

"And I love you too much to let any more of you be swallowed up by that evil bitch, so there's no point in arguing, Helena, there just isn't," he said.

Against those burning eyes, she finally submitted. "Fine. But promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks? If I look like I'm about to kill you, then for God's sake get out. Promise?"

"I won't take any unnecessary risks," he said, which she didn't miss wasn't a promise in any shape or form. But equally she wasn't going to get anywhere by pushing him now.

"Fine. Where will we go? And how are we supposed to hide from him?" She turned to all her friends, determined expression on her face. "He'll do anything he has to, we all know that. Anyone who knows is immediately in danger of intimidation, torture and death—that means all of you are putting your lives at stake just by being in the same room as me. I've no choice but to let Sirius, but the rest of you, no way."

"Helena, we're putting our lives at stake just by being in the Order, so don't give us that," James replied. "However, other than that you're right. Personally I've felt the Crutiatus Curse and I'm not in a hurry to feel it again—and I'm not sure I could resist it forever."

"Then we need to think about secrecy spells."

"There's the Fidelus Charm," Remus suggested. "If you choose someone who You-Know-Who would never target as your Secret Keeper then it should make things safe. Ish, anyway."

Helena nodded. "And an anti-apparition spell should stop her from disapparating. Me, I mean."

"I also have somewhere you could go, I think."

"Where?"

"There's a holiday cottage in Ireland where my parents took me as a young child. We haven't been there in decades, not since…" he trailed off, and they were all left to imagine exactly what had happened there. "But it's pretty remote, on the coast, without another inhabited structure for at least twenty miles."

"Thank you," Helena said.

"Okay, that takes care of the where, what about the _who_?" Lily asked. "I'm more than willing to be your Secret Keeper-"

"I'm not," James frowned.

"In any case, I think it might be safer if Minerva or I acted as the Secret Keeper," Dumbledore said.

"Professor?" Sirius asked McGonagall. "Would you-?"

She nodded firmly. "Of course." She conjured a quill and some parchment from thin air, then held them out to Moony. "Remus, you will need to write the name of the cottage down here, and its location, as exact as you can make it."

He did so, then handed both back to McGonagall. "We should go now," Sirius said.

"Now? But we need clothes and things from home before we just run off to Ireland for Heaven knows how long!"

"Those can be arranged to be brought to you. We need to get you far away from anywhere as soon as possible," McGonagall said.

"A-alright."

"Do you need me to show you the way?" Moony asked.

"No, I think a full address and post code will be sufficient to find it," McGonagall said, a touch of dry humour in her voice.

There were a few more preparations to be made. Anti-apparition spells laid on the cottage, a trace placed on Helena just in case things did go wrong. Dumbledore still had her wand, and that night she agreed to go back in her cell, for everyone else's protection.

Sirius took her down to the dungeons. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

She shook her head firmly. "If Lady V comes out, there'd be no way to protect yourself. She'd kill you."

"Don't know about that. I could be on the list of good breeding stock."

She frowned. "Don't even joke about that, Padfoot, please. If this doesn't work that could well be true."

"It will work."

"How can you be sure?" she whispered. "I'm half-monster now, what if all this does is make me go the full way?"

"It _won't_. I won't let that happen, I promise."

She snorted. "Do you even know what a promise like that entails?"

He didn't reply, but the stoniness that came into his grey eyes spoke that he knew the truth. _If _there was no other way to stop it, she would have to be killed.

"Will you do it?" she asked. "Please?"

He stopped, horror draining his handsome features. "How can you even ask me that? Hellfire, do you think I could ever-"

"Yes," she said quickly, "because you have to. Lily's too optimistic, and she would never believe it was hopeless. James couldn't inflict that sort of pain on you. And there's no one else-" He moved past her, then slammed the door shut. Helena reached through the bars and grabbed his arm. "There is no one else I trust absolutely."

"I am _not_ going to put you down like an animal, Helena!"

"You won't be," she argued back. "You'll be freeing me! Look, _if _it comes to that, then I'm dead already. Everything that makes me, everything that loves you is gone. And you have to stop the bitch that'll be walking around in my body. Because that will be her desecrating my tombstone. And I know you hate that idea as much as I do." She swallowed a sob. "Please."

There was a fire blazing in his eyes now, though he clearly still couldn't speak. All he did was take her hand between both of his, and kiss it hard. Then he turned on his heel and marched away. Helena blew another kiss after him. Thank God. She wouldn't be trapped in some dark corner of her own mind. That night, and for the first time she could ever remember, Helena prayed. Not for herself—she was pretty bloody sure that this wasn't going to work—but for Sirius, and the hope that he'd find the strength he needed.

Her sleep was full of nightmares. She couldn't remember the last time it hadn't been dreamless, but now that she knew about Lady V, her dreams were invaded by an influx of images and screams. She saw herself being tortured, herself _being _the torturer, saw Voldemort in every shadow, saw him taunt her, saw Lily dead, James dead, their unborn child squalling and wailing as it was torn from its mother, Sirius with his flesh flayed from his bones, the black dog being kicked and beaten by her own booted feet-

Helena had never been gladder to see a dawn in her entire life. Lady V, it seemed, was happy enough to plague her dreams. For now, at least, Lily came down with breakfast in one hand and her wand in the other. Helena was waiting for her with what she hoped was a relaxed smile.

"It's me, Lily."

"How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. And a bit like shit."

Lily unlocked the door and handed her the plastic cup of tea and paper bag she'd brought with her. "It's a sausage roll. Not particularly healthy, but I thought you'd want something hot after spending the night in here."

"Lily, you are an angel," Helena sighed, taking a long drink of the tea despite its scalding temperature.

"I try. Um, by the way, is there anything you want from home? I don't know how long you'll be in- in thingy, you know, um ..."

Helena frowned. "Are you alright, Lily?"

She nodded. "Dumbledore must've cast the Fidelis Charm. McGonagall is the Secret-Keeper now. I can't remember where you're staying."

"Well, that's good I suppose. Hopefully Padfoot will."

"I'm sure he will. What did you say to him, by the way? As far as I know he hasn't slept at all."

"I …" She couldn't tell Lily, couldn't face the look of indignation and stubborn refusal. "It doesn't matter. Is he still in the great hall?"

"Yeah. Come on."

They were all there, all the Marauders assembled, even Wormtail. Apparently someone had convinced him it was relatively safe. He still looked as though he'd rather be elsewhere though. Sirius said nothing when they arrived, only took her hand and looked at Dumbledore, who was holding a broken clock. "Everything is ready," he said. "This Portkey will get you there, and the Fidelus Charm has been cast."

Helena smiled at James, who gave a reassuring nod in return. Her smile faded as Dumbledore came forwards with her wand, too. "I think the last thing I need is to be armed, Dumbledore."

"You cannot be afraid of your own magic, Helena. That way more madness lies, not less."

"I'm afraid of her magic, not mine."

"Her magic is yours. _You _have cast Unforgivable Curses, _you _lust for power and dominion over others," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Of course I don't!"

"Some part of you does, Helena! It is vital that you grasp this, if you are ever to recover. Find those darker elements in your soul. Explore them. And then embrace them as your own. Then, and only then, can you learn to deny them successfully. And only then can 'Lady V' be destroyed."

"Alright," she swallowed, "but give my wand to Sirius. This isn't something I'll need magic for anyway. I don't want to run the risk of hurting anyone until I'm cured."

"Very well. Take hold of the Portkey."

They both did so, and the others stepped back. "Take care of yourselves," Lily said, looking as though she was struggling not to cry.

"And you."

"And, uh, good luck," Peter squeaked.

Then there was a jerk behind her navel, and she and Sirius were pitched forwards into thin air. They landed on a stoneflagged floor, Irish sunlight streaming in through the window. Helena climbed to her feet with as cheerful a smile as she could muster. "Well. Let the healing begin!"

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	40. Chapter Forty

**A/N: Can only apologise for the delay in posting this. The muses only just started singing, and I only just finished the lemon for this chapter. And I've just used the word 'only' too many times in this author's note. On with the chapter!  
**

**Thank you for the reviews! **

**Chapter Forty**

"How complicated you reckon that's going to be?" Sirius asked.

"I have no idea. Mostly I want Dumbledore to be wrong for the first time in his life."

"Unlikely."

"Looks like we're going to be here for a while, then. At least the view's pretty."

The view was stunning, in fact—the cottage was perched on a clifftop overlooking the blue ocean, situated in front of rolling hills covered with trees. It felt very isolated, but that was more comforting than anything. After what Lady V had done to one muggle, she shuddered to imagine what might happen if there was a village full of them available for torture and mutilation.

Turning away from the view, she looked at Sirius. He didn't have to be here. "Sirius," she began, "I want to thank you. And apologise. I realise how difficult this is going to be for you, and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it."

He frowned at her tone. "You're talking to me like you don't know me. I'd do anything, and you know that, so stop being so bloody formal, Hellfire. And don't thank me yet anyway. There's plenty of time for me to go back on my word."

She smiled; they both knew he wouldn't ever be induced to do so. "Well, that's true. I haven't gone completely crazy yet."

"Yet," he grinned.

The cottage was simple; so simple that it was easy to see how quickly they'd both get cabin fever. The kitchen had a range, not an oven, and while the fire burned cheerfully in there it still felt cold. There were wood-burning stoves in the two bedrooms, and in the tiny bathroom, too. Stone flooring throughout, and single-glazed windows that looked out to the sea or to the woods. It had an air of neglect—the once-cheerful pastels had faded, the paint peeling and chipped, and the mirror was cracked. A few cobwebs lurked in the corners still, and there were some dead flowers in a vase on the unvarnished table.

"Not exactly Malfoy Manor, is it?"

"It's perfect," she said. "We don't have a fireplace though."

"That is rather the point, dear."

She elbowed him. "Shut up."

"Make me." He elbowed her too.

"Are you talking back to me, Black?"

"Might be. What are you going to do about it, Malfoy?"

"Buy your silence, I think. But I seem to have left my galleons at home."

"I accept various forms of currency," was the reply, as Sirius hooked an arm around her waist.

Helena reciprocated the gesture, though as she did so her smile faded a little. "I wouldn't blame you if you were freaked out about it, love. You don't have to- I mean, if you'd rather not …"

He kissed her with as much tenderness as he ever had, gently coaxing her lips apart and deepening the kiss, making relief and tremulous joy fill her. It wasn't just duty. Part of her still struggled against it though—not against Sirius, never, but it surely wasn't something she deserved. When he pulled back, he saw the frown on her face.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm tainted," she confessed quietly. "I don't want to- I don't know, infect you."

Sirius tilted her face back to his. "Even _if_ I believed that, you foolish woman, you're no more tainted now than you were before. We just know more than we did, that's all."

"And knowledge is power?" she asked, lips quirking.

"Well, it's handy, at least. Can't hurt. It won't hurt us, Hellfire. Pretty sure at this point we'd survive about anything."

"Should bloody hope so," she muttered back.

"So this," he said, gesturing at her arm, "is just a … visual thing, that's all. And if you don't believe that's how I see it, then I'll have to show you."

It was oddly formal as he took her hand and pulled her to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them, even though they were the only people within fifteen miles. The last time they had done this it had been all wrong. Wrong place, wrong tempo, the wrong emotions. This time he'd make it right. He kissed Helena again, slowly reaching down to divest her of the robes that didn't belong to her. Nonetheless, he didn't rip them off her. There'd be nothing violent about this. He undid one button at a time, moving his mouth and fingers at the same pace. His lips moved from hers to her jawline, her neck, dusting kisses along her collarbones, slightly protruding under smooth skin that was a little too pale. She was too thin, he noticed suddenly. When was the last time he'd seen her eat dinner? Or breakfast, in fact? Alright then, mission number two: make sure she _ate_ properly. After she'd had a proper orgasm, naturally.

She had started trembling a bit now, but her eyes were closed and her fingers tangled in his hair, smoothing over the nape of his neck. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips reddened from arousal and slightly parted. Once the robe was entirely open, he pushed it from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle of black silk that would never be touched again. Her lingerie shone underneath, bright scarlet trimmed with gold lace around the tops of her breasts, the curve of her buttocks. It made Sirius grin even as desire spiked in him again. It was like pulling the layers of deception away, and discovering she was still the Gryffindor lioness she'd always been underneath. He knew, then—and for the first time for certain—that they would beat this. Because this was who she was. Temporarily abandoning the foreplay, he kissed her passionately, suddenly fiercely adoring of her and needing to show it. Once it had passed, he traced his fingers over her bra-clad breasts. Helena moaned into his mouth as they moved over her nipples, the little peaks hardening even with a brief touch. With a couple of deft movements, he unhooked the garment, pulling it off and baring her breasts. They backed up towards the bed, and he gently pushed her back onto it, her dark hair over the pillows. She shivered slightly in the cool air, her aureolas puckering even further. He swirled in his index finger around one, then took her hand and slid it over her own breast. She hardly needed the encouragement to pick up where he'd left off. When his hands slid down her sides and then over her abdomen, her hips lifted, unconsciously urging him on. He didn't go below her underwear, running the pad of his thumb teasingly across her covered sex. She drew in a sharp breath when he pressed fleetingly against her clit.

"Sirius-"

He took her other hand, pulling it down. "Touch yourself," he whispered.

"But-"

He kissed her, cutting off her objection and guiding her fingers into her panties. When he was sure she wouldn't stop, he stood again, pulling off his own clothes without taking his eyes from her. There couldn't be a more arousing sight; Helena's bottom lip caught between her teeth, her blue eyes darkened as they locked with his, fingers of her left hand gently twisting and pulling at one rose-coloured nipple and the fingers of her right rubbing underneath crimson silk, slowly moving her hips up and down. He'd wanted to take his time, but the majority of his clothes ended up being torn off. When his body covered Helena's, he was already hard and eager for her, pressing against her core. She kicked the last bit of her underwear off as Sirius moved his fingers down to hers. It was definitely one of the hottest thing they'd ever shared: Helena's fingers on her clit while he put one finger, then two, into her dripping sex. She mutely urged him to _faster _and _harder_, but he ignored her, moving slowly but deeply, ratcheting up her pleasure until the orgasm washed over her, her eyes squeezing shut as her muscles clenched rhythmically around his fingers, a loud moan escaping her mouth.

As the aftershocks jerked slowly from her body, Helena reached for him, kissing him hungrily. He lay on his back, pulling her on top now. There was a great view to be enjoyed yes, but she needed to be in charge of this, needed to see everything in his face, every emotion he felt. It would be the only way she believed him. She took him deep, and once they were joined the pattern felt like a glorious homecoming, everything familiar but perfect, and absolutely necessary. He had her, she had him, they were strong, they were resilient, and they _would _triumph. As the climax crashed through his nerves, heard Helena hit her peak at the same time, it felt like they already had.

They lay together for a long time, the morning warming into midday with the sound of the sea in the distance. Words didn't seem as needed as the soft stroking of flesh and each others' warm arms. But in doing so, he could no longer ignore the blackened streak, the terrible image engraved on her skin. She was very still as he stared at it, and more motionless still when he reached out to touch it. She flinched once just before his skin made contact with hers, almost as if she'd gone back to believing he'd catch something. But his fingers slid over the design quickly, three times cleanly, without injury. His only response was a heavy sigh, but then he kissed her forehead and tucked her close.

"Don't you hate it?" she asked.

"Of course I hate it," he replied. "It mars an otherwise flawless thing. I keep wanting to rub it off."

"It'll never come off," Helena said, her voice angry and afraid.

"It might. One day, if … when we win. When he's dead."

"One day," she sighed. "But not before Lily and James have their baby. Maybe not even before she starts school. It could just go on and on, the number of us capable of resisting dwindling away to nothing. Then the whole world will be reduced to a misery of fear and pain."

She sounded disconsolately certain that he had to lean back, look her in the face to make sure she wasn't actually having some kind of vision. Not that he was sure he _believed _in prophecy, though there were those rumours about the Department of Mysteries … Her eyes seemed normal though, and her voice was too—if unbelievably sad. He kissed her forehead. "That's not how it'll go."

"No? Then tell me your version, Padfoot."

"Well, it starts with Happily Ever After, and it consists of no You-Know-Who, no Death Eaters, maybe no Slytherins either—and everybody's happy."

"And sane, I suppose?" she asked.

"If you really want to be sane. Personally I think sanity should be reserved for Ravenclaws. Anyway, you don't have to be sane for the future you and me get."

"Why do I have the feeling this future involves-"

"Endless shagging?"

"Yep."

"Can't think. I was going to suggest we take up scrabble and join a bridge club. Honestly, Hellfire, sometimes your dirty imagination shocks me."

It had the desired effect, and made her laugh. "Sounds good to me."

"Does, doesn't it?"

She kissed him. "I need a bath."

When he was sure Helena couldn't hear him slip out, Sirius left the bedroom to hide her wand. At the moment, Lady V could know where it was—namely, on him. But if she couldn't find it, she couldn't wreak havoc with it. When Helena got out of the bath, he was back, and the wand was hidden in a newly-created safe behind the mirror in the kitchen. Then he went to join Helena in the bath. They spent the rest of the afternoon getting down to the serious reason for their stay here: listing everything that Lady V had done (as far as they knew) and trying to work out the reasons behind it. At best it made Helena's heart heavy with guilt and shame; at worse she couldn't speak or breathe for crying. Either way, they made little progress. Especially with the extreme aspects of Lady V's behaviour. Finally Sirius had a brainwave.

"Try changing shape."

"What?"

"Try it. It helps, when you're feeling stressed emotionally."

Helena wiped her face before closing her eyes. In another few seconds, there was a golden eagle stood incongruously on the kitchen table. Only her blue eyes remained the same, and they looked sceptical.

"Don't give me that. You feel calmer, don't you?"

The eagle gave a haughty incline of her head, which he took to mean assent.

"Good. Now think. Maggie Sharples. Part of you wanted to punish her, and Lady V amplified that. So why? What made you angry with her?"

They sat there, man and bird, while dark fell outside. Sirius lit candles, directing them to float around the room, illuminating it in soft gold. Finally, Helena transformed back. "She didn't stop flirting with you, after I arrived. After I made it clear we were together, she carried on. But it wasn't just that, I … I was angry with you. And afraid."

Oh wonderful. So torturing that poor woman had been for _his _benefit, too. Not content with his apology to Helena, Lady V wanted to make sure he didn't stray off the lead. "Because I flirted back."

"Yes. And I know that's just what you do—you'd flirt with Lily if you didn't love James so much, and you never mean anything by it, but … It felt like you were reverting to type. It felt like I was about to become another victim of Sirius Black."

"That's stupid," he said bluntly.

"You don't think I know that?" she snapped, burying her hands in her dark hair and looking like she was about to tear it all out. "But I didn't tell you that, I didn't tell her to back off—and you have to admit, whatever else she might be, no matter how monstrous, Lady V is no victim."

They sat in silence for a while, tears falling down Helena's cheeks. Neither of them had any appetite, and without anything else to do, they went to bed early, lying on opposite sides of the bed and not reaching out. He didn't feel contempt for her—but for her insecurity, maybe. Helena had never been one of those girls. Who else hadn't instantly let him have his way, who else had even he thought untouchable, who else had he _fallen in love _with? He had slept around a lot. But he had never done that with Helena. And he deserved a damn sight more respect and faith than to have her think he was 'reverting to type'.

A faint whisper broke the silence. "I'm sorry." She turned over to face his back. "Padfoot, I'm sorry. I … I should have- I should have-"

"I don't want 'should haves', Helena," he spat quickly. "There's no point in them. What's done is done. I know you want to undo it but you can't. Neither of us can."

"Then what are we doing?" she asked. "Why are we even bothering, what's the point?"

"We have to move past it. And I have to move past my issues as well as you do yours."

"Then-"

"It'll take time."

"I know," she said after a long pause.

Her right hand slid over his side to curl around his body, and he pressed a kiss to her palm, but made no move to face her. They fell asleep in the tense, uneasy silence.

* * *

The sun rose early, and woke them equally early. Well, not quite. The sun had woken Helena. Her sliding her leg over his body woke Sirius. He hadn't even opened his eyes before she had her hand wrapped around his hardening cock, her lips on his chest and nails digging slightly into his shoulders. He groaned lowly when she pumped up and down a few times, feeling himself get even harder in her grasp. His hands slowly slid up her thighs, pulling her into position over him-

Suddenly Helena's mouth moved to his neck, and she bit him, almost hard enough to draw blood. The pain made him snap his eyes open, and the gaze which met _his_ made a shock of revulsion spear him.

"What's the matter, darling?" she purred. "You look shocked."

He shoved her off him, scrabbling to get away from her so fast and hard that he propelled himself onto the hard floor, grabbing his wand as he fell. Scarlet eyes watched him with mock-innocence. "And here I thought we were having fun. I know at least one part of you was."

No chance of that now.

She noticed and pursed her lips in a pout. "Shame. Are you sure you don't want to? I think you could be _very _enthusiastic if you just let me … inspire you. I'm sure I could come up with something. It would drive you to new heights of desire, Sirius, things you've never imagined." She moved closer, without taking her eyes from his and somehow rooting him to the spot. Her voice poured over him like a silk shroud lined with poison spines. "Tastes you've craved in your darker moments. Sensations you've never admitted to yourself that you desire … We could rule the world, you know. You could have everything you've ever wanted. I'll give it to you."

When a cold hand snaked around to slide up his leg, the reality of the situation snapped into focus again. He shoved the point of his wind into her face. "Back off."

Very slowly, and with a wide grin, she did so, moving to crouch in the corner of the room. She was still poised on the balls of her feet, still looking like she'd spring at any moment. Sirius stood, pushing away the shock, the anger, the bit of fear that had crept in along with the massive pool of dread in his gut—as well as the incongruity of him still being naked. He couldn't think like her lover now, or even very much a human being: he had to be an auror now, one dealing with a dark witch who was capable of just about anything. Except he was an auror totally without allies or hope of sending for help. Knowing that to do so would be to betray one of the only things in the world he'd absolutely kill for. He backed her into the spare bedroom, and into a chair, conjuring ropes.

And then Lady V persisted for days. She sat in the chair he had shackled her to and stared at him the whole time. He didn't dare shut the door on her, leaving her alone. God knows what she could get up to. It obviously frustrated her that she couldn't disapparate; when she discovered it, she screamed obscenities at him, insulting everything she possibly could and then a few things she shouldn't have been able to. She refused food after that, knowing that it would kill him to know she was starving Helena's body.

"Look, just eat it. I don't care what you say to me, but even evil bitch-queens must get hungry."

"Careful, Black. It almost sounds like you might be pleading with me."

"Is that what you want?"

"Oh, eventually. Not now. Free me, and I'll feed your precious darling one."

"Not happening."

"What a pity." The lips pursed. "Looks like she's going to go hungry then. Not too much in the way of fat reserves, either, is there?"

No, there weren't. Helena had always been slim, but over the last few months she'd lost more and more weight, presumably because of the secrets she'd been keeping. If she stretched out, her ribs were prominent. "Don't you dare-"

"Or what? You'll have to start force-feeding me, blood-traitor. Choke her."

He left the room knowing she was right, and pleading with anyone who might be listening for another way. God, was this how she intended to break him? They had come here to destroy Lady V, what if the opposite was happening? She'd force him into performing brutal acts, increasing the degree of cruelty inch by inch until his soul was as black as his name. No need for the Imperius Curse if you could plunge your talons into someone's mind any time you liked, tearing at the fabric of it and weaving it however you wanted. So much more _fun _than a simple spell.

He turned, staring back at her. Lady V regarded him with an unreadable expression. He didn't think she could be using legilimency, but just in case … no harm in studying Occlumency. When he got out of here. If he ever got out of here. Sod's law was that he'd get Helena whole again only to find Voldemort had won the war.

Lady V broke out four days into her fast. With her hands tired behind her back, he hadn't bothered to check what she was doing. Mistake, as it turned out, because what she'd been doing was rubbing her wrists raw trying to get out of the bonds. She'd done it too, and been absolutely silent as she did so. After three nights without sleep, Sirius had finally collapsed into a chair after eating his own supper, and was teetering on the edge of sleep. His instincts were the only thing which saved him. Her wrists bloody and her fingers white-knuckled, she had managed to grab one of the kitchen knives, and lunged at him. She'd aimed for his throat, but he managed to move his head just in time. Nonetheless, a cut opened up on his jaw. No time for swearing or even pain though, because she was coming in again. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it. She cried out, the pain hers even if the body wasn't. The knife went clattering across the stone floor, but Lady V grappled with him, sinking her nails into his face.

"So now you want to kill me?" he demanded.

"What's the matter, lover?" she crooned, licking the blood from his neck and chin before he could stop her, "Don't you like it?"

He shoved her away, and she went for the knife as he went for his wand. "_Stupify_!"

She flew backwards with the force of the spell, hitting the door and crumpling to the floor, unconscious. But she had thrown the knife, and it was now buried in his gut. "Ow."

He had no idea where the knife had hit, but it hurt like hell, a red hot shard of pain ripping through his abdomen. A fatal wound, no doubt, if he let it be. But he didn't have anywhere near the healing skill to cure an injury like this. Well, what the hell. He was dead either way if it didn't work. His wand shook badly when he pointed it at Helena. "_Enervate_."

The eyes that blinked groggily open were not glowing red, and when the disorientation cleared, she looked horrified. "Sirius! Merlin's beard what _happened_?"

"Domestic," he managed weakly. Pain was really quite bad now. "Could you-"

"Give me your wand," she said quickly.

Left without a choice, he let her snatch it, his own grip loosening anyway. "Hurry."

"This'll hurt."

"Already- Argh!"

Helena had ripped the knife out, and blood immediately poured from the wound, pooling out of him. And then, mercifully, he knew no more.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	41. Chapter Forty One

**A/N: Sorry for the delay people. I hope you enjoy the chapter - however, I should warn you that it is mostly filler, so chapter 42 is being uploaded at the same time to make up for that. Enjoy! **

**Chapter Forty One**

When Sirius' eyes rolled back in his head, his face more than pale, Helena fought down her panic. She knew how to heal this type of injury. She knew. Without room for emotion, the spell came tumbling from her lips as she ran the wand above his abdomen. The magic didn't respond as quickly as it normally did, the unfamiliar wand hampering her.

"Come on you bastard thing," she muttered, "come on, come on, come _on_!"

It was working slowly. The bleeding was stopping as the flow clotted, and the damaged organs were made whole again. It left a slightly jagged scar an inch long, but when the spell was complete, Sirius was out of danger. He woke slowly, pale and suffering from the lack of blood. She had no blood replenishing potion, nor any possibility of brewing one. His weakened state made her want to check the cupboards anyway. She moved him gently so that his head was cradled in her lap.

"Hellfire?"

"I'm here, Padfoot."

"Thanks," he murmured. "That wasn't fun."

She healed the cut on his jaw as well. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't cry, will you?" he joked. "You'll get me wet."

That made her cry harder, of course, though she laughed as well. Her wrists burned, for the first time bringing her own wounds to her attention. She wouldn't ask him to perform the magic now—he didn't have the strength. She conjured some bandages and wrapped them clumsily around her wrists, wincing. What had that bitch done? Apart from try to kill him, of course. It took singlemindedness to a new level, rubbing your own wrists raw to get out.

"Was I tied up?" she asked.

"Yeah. After Lady V came back. Had to."

"Doesn't look like it stopped her though." She helped him into a chair. "No sudden movements. No standing up."

"Wasn't about to."

She got up to make a cup of very sweet tea. Without a potion, he needed sugars and fluids to help replace the blood he'd lost. As she put the pan on the range to boil, he spoke again.

"So … the attempted murder's new."

"Yes," she said quietly. "I suppose she's desperate. She must know we're trying to stop her."

"Well, she's going the wrong way to unmotivate me," he muttered. "Are you back fully?"

She nodded. "I don't remember anything."

"You wouldn't. Nothing really happened. When she emerged I tied her up. Unsuccessfully, apparently."

"Not that unsuccessfully. But you may have underestimated how much of a psycho she is."

A heavy silence fell, and Helena made the tea and managed to find a packet of biscuits before she broke it. "Are we in over our heads yet?"

"No," Sirius said instantly. "Well, maybe. But there's no other choice. Where else is there? What else is there?"

"I don't know. Magic usually prevents mental illness in the conventional sense, but obviously this is exacerbating it," she said, gesturing at the Dark Mark. "Or even causing it, I don't know. I'm not used to not knowing, I hate it."

"Never would have guessed," he smiled.

"But … muggles have been dealing with mental illness for centuries. Not well, but at least they have asylums and padded cells and-"

"That can't be what you _want_," Sirius broke in, looking disgusted. "To be locked up like some animal, forced to be poked and prodded by muggles who've go no idea-"

"I never claimed it was a good idea."

"It's a bloody terrible idea!"

"I can't ask you to give up your entire life for me, Sirius."

"Tough. You didn't ask me, and I'm not giving the choice to do it now. I love you, and I am going to heal you. Now shut up and accept that, or don't bother talking to me at all." He made to get up, and then immediately wavered on bloodless legs.

Helena pushed him back into the seat. "Now who's being stupid? _No sudden movements_, I mean it!"

"Fine. But no more stupid … ness from you."

"How witty your repartée is, darling," she said sweetly.

"Witty no, but it's more sensible than yours. Now, we carry on with the plan, alright? We analyse all the reasons you liked it, and you accept them. But not now please, I've got a headache like I've gone ten rounds with a troll."

"You need to lie down. I'll clean this mess up."

"Alright. Give me a hand?"

With an arm around her shoulders, she helped him limp to the bedroom and lie down, sitting down on the edge of the bed and brushing the hair from his eyes. "You're not going to do anything sappy like watch me sleep are you?" he asked.

"Only for a little bit," she smiled.

He gave a weary wink, and closed his eyes. It seemed only seconds until his breathing had evened out into sleep and he seemed peacefully still. Continuing to be rather too pale, but the deep slow breathing comforted away any lingering fear she had for his health. Once she was sure he'd be fine, she crept out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. And then she sat down at the table and cried for half an hour. Merlin's beard, Morgana's _shoe buckles_, this couldn't continue. So there were two options ahead of her: the coward's way out, and the really tough, really long, really dangerous way.

"I'm a Gryffindor, I'm a Gryffindor, I'm a Gryffindor …" she chanted, steadfastly refusing to look out the window that would show her the cliff and the sea. She didn't remember the suicide attempt, but she sure as hell remembered the promise she'd made on Lily's wedding day. There was no coward's way out here, not one she'd be choosing anyway. So, what had brought out Lady V this time? There'd been no hint that she might lose Sirius, no danger- No danger to Helena, no danger to the _body _that she inhabited. But danger to Lady V was clear and present; Sirius had said it himself, she knew they were working to get rid of her. To stop her acting independently of Helena's will. It had been self-preservation – but that meant some part of _her _needed Lady V preserved. Why?

Helena rummaged around in a drawer until she found an almost bare quill, some old cookery books and an ink pot that was almost glued shut. She tore out a page from an Italian cookery book and began a bulletpointed list on the back of it.

- Lady V made her feel powerful

- Lady V performed complex magics she was afraid to

- Lady V was capable of preventing any harm from ever coming to those she loved (but just as (if not more so) capable of inflicting it)

Those seemed enough to be getting along with. She tackled the in reverse order, pacing around the darkening kitchen whispering aloud. The first sentence nearly didn't make it past her mouth; it was too horrible. But it had to be contemplated. It had to be admitted as a real possibility.

"If he … _If _Voldemort wins … then Lady V has power. She has influence, she has his ear. She could keep some of them alive. Not Lily. Lily would die. She and – and the baby. And James would die before he let anything happen to them. But _Padfoot _… Lady V would keep him alive. I'm convinced of that. If she's willing to torture some poor woman for him then she wants him alive. But that's the common point. _I _want him alive. _I'd _do almost anything to keep him that way. But Voldemort's not going to win. I'm afraid that he might, and that's combining with the desire to keep Sirius alive." She stopped, staring hard at her shadowed reflection in the glass of the window. "So I have to be brave. And by Merlin I should be able to manage that. I'm a Gryffindor. I will always be such. There is no part of me that is ashamed of that." She waited for some dissent, for some dark shift in the back of her mind, a pit of doubt in her stomach. None came. Apparently that was true. She was a Gryffindor, all the way through, all the way down. Helena smiled. "Right then. Fuck being afraid."

She looked back at the table. Back at number two. "Complex magic like fiend fyre … I don't envy her the Unforgivables. I have no reason ever to want to torture someone, no need to control someone's every thought and action. But she is me. I _can _do those things. There's no spell I'm incapable of. _I _can control fiend fyre – alright, I don't remember doing it, but I can. If I ever need to, I _will_. She's not bigger or cleverer than me. She's not tougher. I'm as strong as I want to be. Which leads onto point number one. Why do I want to be powerful?"

That was ambition if she'd ever recognised it. Power. Surely only crazed, despotic, megalomaniacs wanted power? "I don't feel like a tyrant. But that has to be the problem. How can I like that she feels powerful unless part of me _is _tyrannical? And evil," she added. "Alright, alright, alright … perhaps I'm looking at this the wrong way. Reconcile, reconcile … what would I do with power? Well, ha, win the war. Save everyone. Make sure that Lily and James can raise the baby in peace and happiness … Keep Hogwarts as more than just a Death Eater factory … Not what you'd call evil, I don't think. So if they're not evil, then- Alright, so it's not as though I want power for power's sake, I just don't want to feel power_less_." She stopped, feeling suddenly very stupid; such a thought could hardly be called a revelation, yet it felt like one. That was why she didn't want to let go of Lady V, or at least why Lady V kept rearing her ugly head. Helena had allowed her strength to be siphoned off into her other personality, kept none for herself, so of course it was difficult! "She's not a victim," Helena said, repeating her previous words. "She's not a victim of anyone, and all I've done is be a bloody victim, is feel vulnerable. No wonder she sticks around." She found herself once more looking at her own reflected face. "Well too fucking bad. I'm owning that power now – and I'm going to own _you_."

Just for a second, the mirror image of her face sneered, lip curling upwards and the eyes gleaming red. Her ears caught a faint, sibilant hiss. Then she was alone in the kitchen again, and the only glow was coming from the tinge of the dawn.

* * *

Sirius woke with serious dry mouth and a splitting headache. Grimacing, he groped around for the details of what he'd been drinking last- No. Not drinking. He was dehydrated not through alcohol. Blood loss. Lady V had stabbed him, Helena had fixed it, he remembered that and then nothing except blissful unconsciousness. His fingers moved to find the scar, a tiny little thing an inch across and looking far too innocuous to have been as painful as it had been. It was a purple line across his abdomen, jagged and shiny skin stretched taut. Not his first war wound. Hopefully the last, although he doubted that. Sitting up slowly and carefully (and even that came with a powerful head rush), he reached for the glass of water which had been left by the bed. It was gone in several noisy gulps, just blunting the edge of his thirst.

"Hellfire?" he called.

"Kitchen!"

He had to steady himself against the wall getting there, and feeling his head swim every step of the way. Helena was, literally, scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees, brush in hand and a bucket of soapy water next to her.

"Morning, Cinderella."

"Oh sorry, did you want to leave the blood on the floor? It'll be an original form of decor. Your wand is over there by the way," she pointed.

He pocketed it, getting another glass of water. Helena had finished by the time he had. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Hungover. Which is annoying, considering I didn't get the fun, drunken part."

"You lost of couple of pints of blood. I was thinking of writing to Lily and seeing if she could send some Blood Replenishing Potion. Not that I'm planning on stabbing you again," she added.

He frowned. "It wasn't you, love."

"It was though. As much as I hate it, Padfoot, if this is going to work then we need to stop compartmentalising me. Part of _me _stabbed you, because you were preventing that part of _me _getting away. But I think I've … worked it out. Lady V and I actually want the same things, just in different ways."

"What d'you mean?"

She explained to him the thinking she'd done over the course of the night. He still wanted to disagree with everything she said, but she did look better. She had dark circles around her eyes from the lack of sleep, but other than that – her eyes themselves were brighter, she had more colour in her face and her mannerisms were less closed off; she kept making open hand gestures. She looked at home in her own skin again. Less like a flower stem just waiting to be broken.

"I suppose I'll simply have to become used to being a slightly more violent, more volatile me," she concluded.

"'Become used to'?" he joked.

It had the desired – and predictable – effect. She slapped him lately on the arm, then laughed. "D'you think you could get used to it?"

"Yeah, why not?" He reached out and fingered a strand of her dark hair. "'Long as you're directing that violence away from me in future, right?"

"Right."

She leaned forwards and kissed him. He responded quickly, pulling her onto his lap. As soon as the blood started going south, however, his head went again, and he had to pull back from Helena's mouth. "Fucking hell."

She smiled ruefully. "Bugger. Should have thought of that. Maybe give it another twenty four hours?"

"Maybe. You mentioned something about writing to Lily?"

"Yes, although she wouldn't know where to send the parcel to. Unless … are owls bound by Fidelus Charms?"

"You know, I have no idea. We can but try. And it might be a good idea to ask for a chess set or something too. Otherwise we'll end just strangling each other - without the aid of Lady V."

"I could just bake a lot. Of course then you'd be too fat to fight off Death Eaters."

"Too fat?"

"Well, yeah, without Quidditch all the time you're getting a little chubby you know."

"You just keep pushing it, Hellfire, see where it gets you."

She did end up baking that afternoon anyway, and for dinner they demolished an entire chicken and mushroom pie, as well as an apple crumble and fresh vanilla custard. There had been some kind of spell put on the cupboards, and they were instantly refilled with food again.

"Thank God for Dumbledore," Sirius said, before burping loudly.

Helena shook her head. "No, this is Lily – or McGonagall. I'm not sure Dumbledore thinks of stuff like this."

"He doesn't think about food?"

"It's not lofty enough."

"I'm sure he eats."

"Really? When was the last time you saw him do it?"

"Well, we were at Hogwarts for seven years, every- There were all the feasts and- Bloody hell."

Helena gave a smug little smirk and returned to her pudding. "Mmm – more cinnamon next time."

* * *

**A/N: Review if you feel so kind - if not, onto the next chapter!**


	42. Chapter Forty Two

**A/N: Ok, so the less filler-y of the two chapters. Thank you for the review if you left one, enjoy the chapter :) **

**Chapter Forty Two**

_16__th__ April_

_Dear Lily,_

_I honestly have no idea if this will reach you, but I hope it does. Sirius had to do a summoning spell to get hold of this owl, and it looks pretty wild to me. Sorry in advance if it bites you. _

_I've started to remember things. Things that Lady V did. It's mostly in my dreams that they come, but I'm attempting to hold on to them rather than wish them away. That way I can merge them with my memories, fill in the gaps. It's not as easy as merely explaining away everything she's done – more like looking at why she exists in the first place. The more I understand her the more I can integrate her back in. She's me, and I have to take responsibility. So: I'm sorry. __I am so, so sorry for the things I said to you. It's filtering through in bits and pieces but I can make a good guess about the details. I can't – and I won't – attempt to justify my words or actions. I tortured James. I tried to kill Arthur Weasley, I did kill Sandra Shore. I would have killed you if I'd had even half the chance. There's no rhyme or reason for it because there can be neither. I want power just as she does, but only because it can make me stronger. I'm going to turn that power to better uses though, I promise you that. I only hope that you can forgive me. If you can't, then I understand. You've done more for me than I could ever deserve. If you ever do need me, I swear I'll be there. In a heartbeat._

_Your friend,_

_Helena_

* * *

_22__nd__ April_

_Dear Helena,_

_Don't be an idiot, there's nothing to forgive. I've been doing more research into multiple-personality disorders, and understanding the reasons for the emergence of the new identity is crucial. I also think that the Dark Mark probably helped to spark Lady V. It's a link to You-Know-Who isn't it? And he clearly does have some ability to manipulate minds, otherwise he wouldn't have so many followers. Or at least I hope he wouldn't. It's not nice to think that many witches and wizards would joint him entirely of their own free will._

_But leaving aside Lady V, how are you? Do you need anything? Does Padfoot need anything? I imagine he wants his broom, but apart from that? I know Minerva (no comments about the use of her first name please, I'm only just getting used to it myself) arranged for a continuous supply of food to … My goodness, Fidelus Charms are fascinating spells. I almost wrote down where you are, and then found I couldn't. Really interesting. Something to study when I have some free time. Maybe when my maternity leave starts? Anyway, let me know if you need anything. _

_James sends his love – as does the bump. As do I. _

_Lily_

* * *

_2__nd__ June_

_Dear Lily,_

_Thank you so much for the potions. It's been maddening stuck here without any access to any kind of magic. I know it's for the safety of both of us that I don't use it – at least for the moment – but I'm supposed to be expressing the emotion I feel, so there you go: FRUSTRATION! Hopefully we won't need the Blood Replenishing one any time soon. Lady V hasn't made another appearance, and my nightmares are easing. The memories of what I've done feel like proper memories now, although they're jagged and often leave me feeling sick when they do come. But I'm seeing it as progress, that I'm on the right road to getting whole again. There's that old muggle saying, isn't there, that applies here, "Physician, heal thyself." That's what I've got to do. _

_You hit the nail of the head – Sirius is pacing about like- Well, a wild dog that's been caged. He'd give anything to be out, up in the clouds. He sends love back to all of you too; so do I. How is the bump? Kicking and strong I hope. You must be showing really well by now, isn't your due date in about six weeks? I feel like I should offer to help in any way you need me to, regardless of the fact that I can't possibly be of any help whatsoever. How's St Mungo's? I'm assuming Olivia hasn't mentioned anything to you about my sudden absence. And how are the others? Moony I know can take care of himself, what about Peter? I hope he's not getting himself into too many scrapes. Let me know so I can worry pointlessly? _

_Helena_

_p.s. – Any weird cravings you've woken James up in the middle of the night for yet?_

* * *

_15__th__ June_

_Dear Helena,_

_Sadly only one craving, and it hasn't been for anything that required James to get up for. I need Marmite. It's yeast extract, a sort of funny dark brown goop with a really strong flavor and smell. There's a permanent metallic taste on the back of my tongue and this is the only thing that gets rid of it. I've literally hated it all my life, but apparently the baby can't get enough of it. Normally people have it on toast, but lately I've just been eating it with a spoon straight out of the jar. James loathes the stuff – refuses to kiss me before I've cleaned my teeth! But presumably aided by Marmite, the bump is indeed well, and kicking about quite happily in there. My due date is in four weeks' time, and I'm bloody not going to miss the daily attacks on my kidneys. We still haven't got a name picked out yet, but hopefully when the baby's born he'll look like a James Jr or an Alfie. Just as long as he doesn't look like an Englebert we'll be fine! My sister's going to have a baby too, apparently. I didn't know she'd even got married, but now she's going to have a baby. They're considering 'Dudley' for a name, so her letter informs me. With any luck he won't look a thing like his back-of-a-bus father. Oh, that's cruel. But unfortunately true. I haven't written back yet. _

_Tell Padfoot I did try to get his broom sent out, but our illustrious leader said no. He said a letter between us every couple of weeks is one thing, but because sending a broomstick by post is rare (so it seems), it could attract attention. If it helps, James hasn't been able to do much flying either – at the office, Mad-Eye's got them working into the ground, and if he's not there he's at HQ with the rest of our merry band. Truth be told everyone's exhausted. It just never stops. Heaven knows what it's going to be like when the baby comes. A few levels above 'hectic' I suspect. We might actually have to employ a house elf! Or get babysitters, at any rate. I'm sure Wormtail wouldn't mind doing it, once in a while at least. Poor Peter, he seems more twitchy and nervous than ever. Every time you speak to him he jumps out of his skin. He obviously hasn't got used to being alert all the time – he might be ready for an attack, but I'm fairly certain that he'd simply run away. In which case, since he'd find a safe place for the baby that probably does make him a good childminding choice, I suppose. _

_As far as Remus goes, honestly James and I are worried. We hardly ever see him now, and he's even stopped turning up at the full moon. I'm a little relieved about that, I have to admit. A stag and a massive dog with a werewolf is one thing – a stag by itself? My overactive imagination can't help saying that's just lunch with antlers. But my relief James isn't doing that aside, Remus has been really distant. Whenever we pin him down for a conversation, he's evasive and doesn't want to talk about what he's doing or where he's been. We've had him over for dinner a couple of times, but even then he just bolts his food and comes up with an excuse to dash away. We think Dumbledore has him on some deep-cover thing. God, I hope he knows what he's doing. We can't afford to lose anybody else. _

_Everything at the hospital is fine; Olivia doesn't suspect a thing (I think she thinks I'm under the Imperius Curse) and I'm about to go on maternity leave. Sorry to end on such a gloomy note. _

_All my love,_

_Lily_

* * *

_30__th__ June_

_Dear Lily,_

_That could be worrying news about Remus. It does sound bad but remember Dumbledore wouldn't have sent him on any kind of mission if he didn't think he could handle it. I'm sure you'll be terribly shocked to hear that Padfoot and I disagree on the issue, but _I _don't think Remus' lack of communication and openness should be cause for concern. We're fighting a war, and part of warfare is – always has been – intelligence-gathering. And with intelligence, the less of it people are aware of the safer they normally are. If the truth is terrible, then as his friends we'll all want to help – Prongs and Padfoot definitely without asking questions first. You've got a baby on way, we're trying to hold my sanity together … is it any wonder Moony might think we've got enough on our plates as it is? However, I enclose a note from Sirius which I'm sure will tell Prongs to be on his guard and watch for any sign of a turncoat. It saddens me deeply to know that's because of Lady V. _

_I'm reasonably confident I remember everything now. Enough to believe I should be arrested for murder. Even if I know I cannot be held responsible for the actions of a splinter personality, now that I remember doing it, that argument no longer convinces me. Please keep this to yourself. I haven't told Padfoot, since he would probably chain me up for fear of me handing myself in to the Ministry – and apparently there are some pretty bleak things being implemented by Barty Crouch. No trials, the use of Unforgivables on Death Eaters … I suppose even for the rest of you, the line between us and them must be becoming a little blurred. Or very blurred. Ends don't always justify means do they? I wonder how far the Ministry will go before they learn that though. _

_Well, now we're both gloomy. I apologise for that. But in looking for a bright side, I never have to look further than you. You, James and the baby are the light on the horizon, Lily, you really are. Knowing that no matter what else happens, there'll be a little witch or wizard in the world soon with loving parents who are fighting to make his or her future a happy and peaceful one brings more comfort than I can express. Without sounding like an idiot writing in to _Witch Weekly_ anyway. We both miss you. Hopefully it won't be much longer before it's safe to come home. _

_Love,_

_Helena_

* * *

The morning of 31st July dawned just as one might expect a summer morning to do. It had been a little chilly overnight, but the stars had been spectacular, and the last one winked out just as the sun rose. Helena woke without Sirius next to her, though that wasn't cause for concern. He'd been taking walks on the clifftop in the mornings, trying to get some exercise and fresh air, to shake off the restlessness. She knew how he felt. As the weeks passed and Helena's nightmares had eased, and Lady V had stayed quiescent, it was difficult to stop their thoughts from looking homeward. They'd done all they could. No one was attacking them, no danger was assailing them. And in love they may be, but stuck with one person for days and days at a time, with no other human contact? She knew things about Sirius now that she would have quite happily gone to her grave not knowing. It was no wonder the poor bloke needed to get out. Up until this morning, however, he had gone outside alone. There were protections on the cottage that she wasn't sure existed outside it. And even if the anti-apparition field extended to the whole of Northern Ireland, other magics might weaken. Voldemort could pierce them. Possibly. It was that risk which had kept Helena inside. Right now she didn't care – she had a permanent headache due to a lack of air, and she was going to step outside. She dressed and went after Sirius. Who, predictably, reacted badly when he saw her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I needed to, Padfoot, I was being driven mad stuck in there."

"I don't care, it's not-"

Ignoring him, she moved further from the house. The breeze danced over her skin, playing with her hair. Sunlight was brighter than she remembered, but not warm yet. It felt like it might rain later – but this being Northern Ireland, that was a strong possibility any day of the year. The sea crashed distantly on the bottom of the cliffs and lifted the noise of seagulls to her, brought the tang of salt to her nose. She spent a few minutes absorbing it all before letting Sirius finally grab her attention.

"Hellfire. It is not safe."

"And when is it going to be safe?" she asked reasonably.

"Well, when- I don't know. But it can't be now. Not yet."

"Why not? We're both _bored_, Padfoot. I haven't felt conflicted or outrageously angry – Lady V hasn't tried to come out. We have to start pushing the boundaries. It's sensible, you know it is."

"No I don't. What I know is that you're vulnerable and exposing yourself for no obvious reason. It's not time yet."

"If there's some kind of – of test coming, then I'm done with waiting for it. There's a war going on out there-"

"Do you think I've forgotten that?" he bit out.

"I know you haven't, and neither have I! What I _can't _forget is that our friends are risking their lives daily while we're stuck being less than useless in the back of beyond! We don't have the right to do this, Padfoot! Do we?" she asked, her tone softer but more helpless now.

He turned away, looking back over the sea. "No," he said finally. "We don't."

"Then we have to start preparing to go back."

He slipped his fingers through hers, lacing them together. "Yeah. I know." They were quiet for a long time, the morning passing slowly around them. "So. Welcome back to fresh air, Hellfire," Sirius eventually said, the smile back in his voice. "How is it?"

"Big."

"Right. Any … feelings?"

"Not so far. Oh, one!"

He turned to her. "What? Is it Vol-"

"Hunger, Sirius. I'm hungry," she grinned.

"Oh. Well, I think I could manage breakfast."

"Good. It feels like a French toast sort of morning."

"You'll be getting a bowl of cornflakes."

"French cornflakes?"

"Bien sûr."

"Bon. Et quelquefois-"

"Easy, Hellfire that was the limit of my French."

"Zut alors!"

He rolled his eyes. "What? Not all of us had French grandmothers."

"Pfft. Not much an an-"

Suddenly, her left arm convulsed, pain running like a wire through the Dark Mark. She more than recognised the feeling that echoed back in her gut. It was a surge of mingled dread and excitement, the sensation not unlike a portkey in the way it tried to pull her forwards. She gripped her forearm and tore herself from Sirius. Who, of course, followed. He'd understood what was happening without having to ask.

"Fight it, Hellfire."

"I don't – want to," she ground out. "I want to-" She _felt _her eyes shift colour, though she didn't black out. She took a threatening step forwards. "- be free," she hissed. Helena wrenched herself back, physically and mentally. "Be brave, be brave … I want to go, but I want to-"

"Obey him!"

"Fight him. I'm strong enough-"

"If you're strong enough, serve him! If you're strong enough-"

"Then I'm strong enough not to," she gasped, still moving backwards and unaware of the cliff behind her.

"Go!"

"I WON'T!"

Her shout burst into the sky, and was followed by silence. Helena opened her eye, her vision blurring and unable to focus on the grass in front of her face. She was on her knees – when had she fallen? The Dark Mark still hurt, but the compulsion had done now. It throbbed with the aftermath of pain. There was no Voldemort at the end of it.

"Helena?"

She raised her head slowly – he was stood ten feet away, wand out. As soon as he saw the blue eyes, he lowered it and sprinted for her.

"I did it," she whispered when she got to her.

"I know, I know, you won, you-" he cut off, apparently overcome with positive emotion. "I'm so proud of you."

"I did it!"

They kissed, and carried on kissing, only to break apart and laugh, smile, and then kiss again. "He can't control me anymore. I'm free."

Sirius smiled, his face radiant with more joy than she'd ever seen there. Helena knew hers was exactly the same – the feeling of liberation was coursing through her, making her feel like she could fly right now, without the bother of changing her shape. She didn't feel _fragile _anymore. Laughing with delight, she threw herself back down onto the grass, rolling around and giggling at the sky. Sirius sat down too, though his eyebrows were definitely raised.

"You're a little bit mad, you do know that?"

"Yes."

"And that doesn't bother you in the least, I suppose," he said, putting one arm over her body.

"Not in the least. Now get down here and join me," she said, pulling him down without time for a reply.

Happily, then, there was only a gap of an inch or so between their lips. She closed it quickly, twining her fingers through his hair and arching her back slightly to help him get the idea. His fingers snaked under her top, the tops of them ghosting over her ribcage. For once, the only emotions she felt were happy ones, and she opened the gate to her arousal without once feeling unworthy of him. Clothes didn't prove a barrier for long, and soon they were naked under the open sky. It was hardly the first time they'd made love, but to Helena it felt like it was – for a long time. It felt like coming home after a tortuously lengthy separation from him. It was being presented with the opportunity to relearn all of him: the way the muscles of his back flexed and moved under smooth skin; the wand calluses on the heels of his hands; the taste he left on her tongue when he kissed her; the sensation of his frankly perfect cock filling her. She came undone with a moan of his name, the aftershocks of her orgasm enhanced by his.

Knowing they were alone for miles, there seemed no hurry for them to cover up, or do anything except bask in the warmth of the sun. When cognitive function had returned, he said, "Safe to say we can go back now?"

She laughed. "I'd say so. I'll write to Dumbledore."

"Come on. Let's see if there's any champagne in the cupboards."

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope that was more killer. And there will be more killer coming in the next chapter! Review please!**


	43. Chapter Forty Three

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long! In my defence, I thought I'd uploaded it, and it was only when I was preparing to upload 44 that I noticed this one was missing ... Heh heh. Um ... on with the chapter! And 44 will be soon after this one, I promise. **

**Chapter Forty Three**

Sadly, they had to make do with chilled pumpkin juice, but the toast didn't diminish for that. Thirsty after recent exertions, they finished an entire carton of it before heading for a bath. It was another moment of pure happiness for Helena. Sharing a bath was so intimate, in another way entirely that just sex had been. She no longer had anything to hide from him, nothing to feel tense about. They were both in the tub, Helena sitting with her back to his chest.

Sirius brushed her wet hair over one shoulder and kissed her neck once. "You scared me you know."

"When?"

"During that battle you had with yourself. You kept backing off. I thought you were going to go over the cliff."

"Sorry."

She felt him shrug. "I wouldn't have had to live without you for long."

"You don't mean-? Padfoot, you wouldn't-"

"What, kill myself? No, I meant I'd _levicorpus _you back up. And if that failed then, yeah, I'd throw myself after you and hope you remembered you could grow wings before we hit the bottom."

"And if I didn't?"

"It'd be depressingly Shakespearean, wouldn't it?"

She laughed. "You're no Romeo."

"Hell no. He pissed about far too much. And you don't exactly fit Juliet."

"Not passive enough?"

"Nope. You're a Rosalind."

She considered it, and decided she had no objection. "Well, then, Orlando, are you clean? I believe I was promised a bowl of French cornflakes."

It was midway through that bowl of cornflakes that the owl arrived, tapping at the window. "Oh, that must be from Lily."

Sirius opened the window and let the bird in, taking the envelope it proffered. "No – this is Wormtail's writing." He opened it, reading. "'Dear Padfoot and Helena, exciting news – Lily gave birth at about four this morning! She and Prongs are the proud parents of a healthy baby boy. They don't have a name yet but he's absolutely adorable and is the spitting image of James. You two should come home as soon as you can and meet him. All the best, Pete.'"

Helena beamed. "That's wonderful! And the baby's healthy, that's fantastic news! We need to send a letter of congratulations. And flowers. And a gift for the baby. And-"

"And it sounds like we'll need a trip to Diagon Alley, which could be a problem."

"Oh. Alright, well I haven't written to Dumbledore about today yet, so we'll see what he says. But I don't think she's coming back, Padfoot. I feel … different. Whole."

"You look different," he said. "Better. Back to yourself again."

"I suppose there were two births today," she smiled.

As the day wore on, and after a letter of congratulations had been sent to Lily and James, and the news about Helena's victory had been dispatched to Dumbledore, exhaustion started to creep up on her. It seemed battling against both oneself and one's evil overlord father could be fatiguing, but as she lay down for an afternoon nap, she had no fear that either one would intrude on her dreams. No, this nap was going to be-

She sat up again. What _was _that? It wasn't a noise she'd heard, or a shadow suddenly passing – it was still late afternoon outside, and the curtains were still open. But there was a shiver of unease at the base for her neck, and it wasn't going away. Danger. It felt as though they were under threat. Getting up as quietly as possible, she padded to the kitchen, where Sirius was reading an edition of the _Prophet _that Lily had sent with her last letter.

"Padfoot," she whispered. "Someone's here."

He pulled out his wand. "Where?"

"I don't know. Not in the house, I … I just have this feeling. And I don't think we should ignore it."

"Alright. Do you want your wand?"

She glanced out of the window, this time almost sure she had seen something. A shadow in the corner of her eye. "I'd better have it."

He retrieved it and handed it over. When the smooth wood met her fingers, Helena felt a warm rush of recognition as the two of them, wand and witch, reacquainted. "Outside," she said.

"Come on then. We'll go quietly, stick together. Your best-" he thought better of it, "your best _defensive _spell at the ready."

"Got it."

Outside seemed to be completely empty though. Nothing but sunshine the colour of melted butter with tumbling clouds high in the sky, the lightest of breezes with it. She didn't trust it. Not one bit of it. The sense of something wrong had become stronger. It helped a lot when the first spell came flinging out of nowhere. She had time to fling herself to one side, and the magic – a stunner – impacted harmlessly against the wall of the house.

"Son of a- _Stupify_!"

Her spell missed too, though she was perfectly sure there was some burned hair floating in the breeze. She sent another quick bolt of fire flying after it, then felt a shield charm cast over her: Sirius' spell. As per bloody usual, she was the target. But while he was worried about her, he left himself vulnerable, and the next time she was able to glance over at him, he was bleeding from a cut on the shoulder. His wand arm wasn't hurt though, and he sent a telekinetic blow which blew the Death Eater fifteen feet towards the cliff edge. It was retaliated via an electrified net which flew towards both of them. Quidditch reflexes saved Sirius, and he rolled to one side. Helena wasn't so mesh descended over her and sent instant, debilitating shocks through her body. It wasn't as bas the Crutiatus curse, but it still made her limbs shake beyond her control for a moment or two. She refused, however, to let weakness or pain impinge on her – and finally managed to cast a spell she'd barely known she was aware of; it nullified the electrical field, and a cutting spell split the new into two pieces.

When she was on her feet again, the Death Eater tossed his – her mask aside. Octavia. The other Death Eater stopped too, warily facing Sirius. Octavia spoke. "You had to know this was coming. No one leaves the Dark Lord. You even told him that."

"No," Helena said, finding a smirk from somewhere. No, not from _somewhere_, from the remnants of Lady V. Rather than push it away, she let it flower onto her face. Let it turn her gaze cold. Let it inspire fear in the eyes of Death Eaters facing her. "No, what I told him was that I'd leave—or he'd kill me. And I don't see him anywhere. Do you?"

The fear wasn't confined to their eyes anymore, and when she took a step forwards, they actually took one back. Looking at them, Helena knew exactly the curse she was going to cast. She knew she had to, knew that there was only one course of action and that Padfoot would never take it. The Death Eaters would never expect her to do it. But there was no hesitation when she pointed her wand at Octavia and yelled, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

In the subsequent flash of green light, she saw quite clearly the expression of surprise on Octavia's face.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Her wand was gone from her hand. The Death Eater stood at the cliff edge, but he was armed. Sirius froze, not willing to risk a spell while she was without her weapon and possibly get her killed. Her wand lay in the grass between them; Sirius made a tiny gesture with his hand towards the Death Eater. She read it as _distract him_.

"You could leave," she offered calmly.

"Shut up!"

"You can't possibly win. What you've come for is gone."

"Then I'll kill you!" The wand tip switched direction to her – out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius dive for the wand. But as he did, the Death Eater once more targeted Sirius. His mouth opened, the curse was readied. Without thinking, Helena sprinted forwards, bodily throwing herself into him. They both went over the cliff.

* * *

To say his heart was in his mouth would have been an understatement, to say the least. However, no sooner had Sirius ran to the edge of the cliff than a giant eagle rocketed past him and another thirty feet higher still, so close he felt the rush of displaced air. The bird let out a triumphant scream and then circled back, landing just outside the cottage.

"Don't you bloody _dare _to that to me again! I got your wand by the way, bloody woman …"

Helena transformed again, sprawling on the ground. "Thanks," she croaked.

He let out an explosive sigh. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd be more violent, were you?"

"That wasn't that violent," she said.

"No? You killed them both, Hellfire. Two Death Eaters, both dead. That one-!" he cut off, pointing to where Octavia Fantaine lay, her eyes glassy.

"The Ministry's authorised the use of-"

"For aurors, yes! Since when were you an auror? Bloody hell …" he raked his hands through his hair, then moved back over to the cliff. The second Death Eater was like a broken toy on the rocks below. He imagined the high tide would take the body out to sea. "And what on earth are we supposed to do with this one?"

"The same thing," she said calmly. "Push it over the cliff. Report to Dumbledore that there are two fewer Death Eaters in the world. I can't regret that, can you?"

"I can't believe you just did that. You just performed the killing curse, right in front of me. In your right mind, you just did-"

"Padfoot, you're missing the point."

"That's a life sentence in Azkaban if you were anyone else! I'm breaking the law just-"

"Padfoot!"

"_What_?" he snarled.

"You are missing the _point_," she said again. "Think about it. Where are we? What are we protected by? You're intelligent enough to realise what this means!"

He stopped, staring. "But- Merlin's beard."

"Exactly."

He shivered, and chilled to the bone by fear and dread, he reached out and pulled her to him, forgetting any disbelief in what she'd just done. They weren't safe. None of them were safe, no one in the Order.

"This means we-"

She nodded. "We have a traitor. No one outside of the Order knew where we were going. And they knew exactly."

He suppressed another shiver and kissed her hair while his mind worked furiously. The number of people who knew where they were, he could count on one hand. McGonagall and Dumblefore, they could rule out instantly. Dumbledore had been their secret keeper, but he would only ever give the information to people he trusted implicitly. Which very uncomfortably, left Lily, James, Peter and Remus.

Helena had come to the same conclusion. "None of them would. It's inconceivable."

"Is it? James and Lily, yeah, but…"

She frowned. "But?"

"Moony. He had opportunity, he had knowledge…"

She eased out of his arms, facing him now. "And motive? Why would he switch sides, why would he betray us?"

"The same reason the giants have joined Voldemort, the same reason any other werewolf might."

She didn't say anything for a long time, though she was obviously giving serious consideration to his suggestion. "I- I think you're wrong," she said finally. "I think he's never been anything but a friend to you. I think he…is no more likely to be a traitor than you are."

"He has the most to gain out of all of us."

"I'm not disputing that."

"And he's being secretive from what James says, you have to admit that, Helena."

"And what if the reason for that is he knows there's a traitor too, and he doesn't know who it is? Who's to say Remus doesn't think it's you? Or me? Or Peter?"

Sirius snorted. "Pete doesn't have the intelligence to be a traitor."

"It was hypothetical, Sirius. My point is-"

"I know, Hellfire. This solves at least one issue though. We go back, today. There's no point in staying now. There's no refuge anywhere."

Helena shivered. "That poor baby … how are Lily and James supposed to keep him safe now?"

"We'll go there first. If we've been attacked then they could be the next target."

"Agreed. How far does the anti-apparition field go?"

"Five miles. It'll be faster-"

"Way ahead of you," she said, taking a step away and beginning to transform her shape again.

"Follow me."

He did the same, his vision reducing the world to shades of grey, black and white. Helena flapped her wings powerfully, heading for the cliff edge. She disappeared briefly before the thermals lifted her up again. Once she'd turned back towards land, Sirius started running. His breath came in sharp pants by the time they were out of the anti-apparition field, and he stopped, transforming again. Helena came in to land too, though she obviously misjudged the speed she was going at and ended up ploughing into the ground. He laughed. Even more so at the disgruntled expression on her face when she did change. And the mud all down the front of her robes.

"Shut up!"

"What? It's funny! In my defence, it's only funny because-"

"Because you're an arse, yes, ha, ha, ha," she said, rolling her eyes. Unsuccessfully trying to brush her clothing down, she asked, "Now, where are we going first?"

The logical choice would be Westmoreland Castle. Would be HQ and straight to Dumbledore. It would also risk leaving Lily and James unawares for a little while longer. A lot could happen in only a few minutes – such as a hoarde of Death Eates materialising in a newborn baby's bedroom. When he looked at Helena, it was obvious she'd already decided that duty was going to take a back seat. "Godric's Hollow," he said.

"Agreed."

Within seconds, they had both disapparated, reappearing in the Somerset village hundreds of miles away. There was a woman on a bicycle peddling through the village sqaure when the two of them popped into existance in her path. She skidded, braking hard, and fell off. "Merlin's beard, watch where you're apparating!"

Helena helped her up. "Sorry."

Still muttering, the witch got back on her bike and carried on her way. Sirius took Helena's hand. "Come on."

She indicated the Potters' cottage, joking weakly, "Well at least there's no Dark Mark …" The look he sent her way was enough to stop her attempting any more humour. "I'm nervous, Padfoot, let me get it out," she tried to explain.

"Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about?"

"I don't know, how about the fact that part of me was trying to kill them last time we saw one another?"

"They don't hold you responsible for that."

"They don't on _paper_. Besides, Lily forgave me before the baby was born – what if she changed her mind-"

"She wouldn't."

"She might though! Life's dangerous for everyone, what if I'm just one more risk in their lives that they can do without?"

"You're not a risk anymore, you're cured!"

"You say that like it's just finished, over with!"

"It is, you just need to-"

The the Potters' front gate, they were quieted when the front door opened, and Prongs stood there, leaning against the door jamb. "Only you two could wake the baby up from halfway down the other end of the village."

"Sorry," they chorused.

"You better come in. 'Long as you're going to stop bickering."

"We will."

The windows were all open, and the first thing Helena and Sirius did was close them all. Sirius put a sensor nexus on the front door while Helena did the same on the back. When Sirius went to slam shut the sash window in the living room, James drew the line.

"What are you doing?"

"Explain in a bit. Right now you need to be as secure as you possibly can. Where're Lily and the baby?"

"Upstairs in the nursery. They're fine, Padfoot, what-"

"Hellfire, they're upstairs."

"On it."

"Sirius, _what _is going on?"

"We were attacked – two Death Eaters."

He watched the realisation strike his best friend, and then James strode to the foot of the stairs. "Lily, downstairs, now! Bring Harry!"

"But I just got him down again!" Lily called back.

"I don't care, this is important!"

They heard murmured female voices as Helena reasoned with Lily, and a moment later the two of them came down the stairs. Lily looked irritated but was moving carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping baby in her arms. They took seats in the living room.

"Now will you tell me what this is about?" Lily asked Helena.

"Our location was leaked," Helena said. "Death Eaters showed up, trying to kill us."

"What happened?"

Helena looked at Sirius, but all he said was, "They're dead," in as neutral a tone as possible.

"Octavia Fantaine was one of them," Helena said.

"Have you told Dumbledore yet?"

"No. We came straight here. Have you noticed anything? Anyone watching you or anything unusual at all?"

"No, nothing like that. But we only got home from the hospital a few hours ago. I'm pretty knackered though, we both are. Not sure if I'd notice You-Know-Who watching the house himself," James said.

Lily frowned. "I thought the Fidelus Charm prevented the Death Eaters from ever finding out where you were. I couldn't even write it when I tried."

"Yes. And the only people who knew were you guys, Moony, Wormtail, McGonagall and Dumbledore."

"Merlin's beard."

A deep silence followed, broken by the soft murmurings of the baby. "I can't even … I'm too exhausted to even think about what that means," Lily said faintly.

Another silence, and Sirius felt weariness sink into his own bones. It never ended. Life kept happening in the gaps in between crises, but the crises kept coming too, squashing out the moments trapped in the middle. All they could do was keep trying to be human in the meantime – people and practitioners of magic.

"So," he said, "Harry then? Good name."

Helena leaned over. "He's beautiful."

"Thank you. I happen to agree," Lily smiled, brushing her finger over her son's cheek.

"He's got Lily's eyes," James said. "When they're open, I mean. It's good you're here, guys, traitors aside. We were going to write to you and ask anyway."

"Ask what?"

"If you'd be his godparents," Lily smiled. "Of course he won't be Christened for a while, but …"

"You sure?"

Prongs grinned at him. "We're sure, Padfoot. There's no one else to ask."

"Well, yeah, I mean- Mate! Yeah, of course! Hellfire?"

Helena's eyes were very bright, and she nodded, swallowing. "It would be an honour."

"Would you like to hold him?" Lily asked him.

How he could feel nervous about sitting in an armchair and not moving he had no idea. But his arms were shaking when Lily put Harry into them. She smiled. "Don't worry, you won't drop him."

Harry was reassuringly heavy – far less fragile-feeling than he was fragile-looking. He was warm and soft and had little wisps of black hair. "Alright, he's kind've cute."

"He's not the only one, Padfoot," Helena siad, coming over to kiss him. "But unfortunately … I think we should go. Dumbledore has to know."

He nodded, handing Harry back to his father. "Keep safe. Don't trust anybody. I mean, apart from- We're not the-"

"Don't worry, Padfoot, we know it's not you."

"Can we use your fireplace?" Helena asked. "Not sure I've got the strength to Apparate all the way to HQ."

"Of course. I'll put more spells on once you've gone. We should probably owl Alie and Frank too, see how they're getting on …"

"What?"

"Their son was born today as well. Don't think they've got a name for him yet."

"Weren't you listening? You can't send any kind of message. It isn't safe."

"I was listening, weren't you? _Their baby is only as old as Harry_! We cant let them leave him-"

"Prongs, we don't know who it is. The only people in the whole country I trust absolutely right now are in this room. We can't have any idea of anyone else."

"Alright, alright. Just … let us know what Dumbledore says."

"We will. Goodnight."

Helena took a handful of Floopowder. "Westmoreland Castle."

He got the impression they'd given McGonagall a hell of a start when they appeared in her fireplace – it could have been the shocked expression on her face, the fact that her hat was askew, or that she had her wand out. And pointed in Helena's face. Quite wisely, Helena had not drawn her weapon.

"Evening, Professor."

"_Lumos_." The end of McGonagall's wand flared brightly, and she peered into Helena's eyes. "Blue."

"Yes. There's some news on that front. Is Dumbledore here?"

"Not yet. Take a seat."

McGonagall reached beneath the neckline of her robes to rub at a pendant, presumably where she kept her phoenix tear. While they waited, Sirius sat down in the only spare chair. With McGonagall in the other one, Helena came and sat in his lap, curled up with her head pillowed on his shoulder. Before Dumbledore even arrived, they were both fast asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


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